


Bees, Birds and Boys

by Howlynn



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, February 2021 Johnlock prompt challenge from ohlooktheresabee, February_2021_Johnlock_prompt, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:48:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 29,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29156109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Howlynn/pseuds/Howlynn
Summary: February 2021 Johnlock prompt challenge from ohlooktheresabeeSo, I live to make things really hard and so I am going to try to pants a cohesive (hopefully) novel length story using these random prompts as chapter themes.Sherlock has done something and it’s a really big thing.  It was Molly’s idea, to be honest.  But he hasn’t been honest with John, and you know how that’s going to go over.  The not telling John was fine at first, but now, well, it’s not fine.  Can Sherlock fix it or will he lose John again?Please be advised that if you are easily triggered, there is a great possibility that you should not read my stories, so kindly heed that there are difficult subjects and traumatic occurrences.
Relationships: John/Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes & Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson & Rosamund Mary "Rosie" Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper
Comments: 43
Kudos: 21
Collections: February 2021 Johnlock prompt challenge from ohlooktheresabee





	1. Chapter 1

Secret

He had no idea how to explain this proposition to John, now that he was back and they’d mended their razor wire fences. He never knew how John would react to such things. Would he storm off and move out or would he simply sigh and call him an idiot?Considering the brass tacks of the arrangement, there was little chance John would wholeheartedly approve and welcome a stranger into their already crowded home on a semi-permanent basis. 

It was Molly’s idea, of course.Of course it was Molly’s idea, and he’d obliged. He’d scoffed and been at once on the defensive, when she’d asked. Why him?He was defective. He was a walking arsehole manual of how not to be human, according to most people. 

John had said he was human once, but he’d also said he was a machine once.He’d said he was the wisest man but referred to him as an idiot more often than not. So John could react within any parameters from the high side of delight to the bell ends of cruelty and even though it was not his choice to make, it was within Sherlock’s predictive mind that telling John would be a dicey operation at best.

He’d obliged.Of course he had obliged. Her logic had won him over.She acknowledged that his relationship with Bee had set the idea in her mind and that acting as Rosie Bee’s child minder during John’s period of darkness had made her depressed at the loss, once he’d regained his senses and begun acting like the wonderful father John would have been all along if Mary had not been murdered.

She’d banged on about her biological clock and a bunch of other maternal nonsense he deleted, but finally she’d said the one bit that had changed the entire conversation for him.

“I’d let you be involved as much or as little as you wanted.You could be a total stranger if you’d prefer, but I’d like it if you could be... a real father, just like you are to Rosie?”

Those words had stopped him.His mind went so quiet he feared he’d relapsed or perhaps died. All the storms constantly beating against the diamond panes of his mind palace had calmed and when he looked out the window the sun was out and the garden was in bloom.

“Sherlock?If you can hear me, just think about it... because, I don’t mean to... that is... I just... we get on well, you know?So I’d get on with him or her too, and I know that you love me... not like that, but you do and me too, so it could be workable and I’d rather take a chance with your genetics, which I quite like, over an unknown file of half truths and—“

“Yes.”Sherlock said as he blinked back into time.

“What?Yes, to what, Sherlock?”

“All of it.How do you propose we accomplish the... implantation and produce an embryo?”

They’d done an unholy amount of research.There were down sides to each, not to mention costs.NHS denied single women fertility treatments and certainly fertility was not the issue and the simplest solution was the simplest solution. 

They didn’t want to even consider multiple births or the chance of having to perform a reduction.

He was a fully functioning male after all, and though his experience was mostly theoretical, those few aberrations into clinical meant he knew he was perfectly capable of performing the necessary proceedings for an acceptable outcome. Thank you, Irene. 

Molly tried to hide her multiple emotions on the subject, once brought forth and settled on the most brilliant shade of English Rose that Sherlock had ever seen in his friend. 

“What?You assumed me to be ... unable?Well, then, the turkey Baster it is?”Sherlock had teased with a smirk.

Molly had giggled and the tension abated. “No, no... it’s the practical solution. I mean..it is, all things considered.It’s just... you and John...”

“I know.But that... my stupidity with human error will never fly.He’s speaking to me.Considering moving back to Baker Street, and he does care for me... in some form.I’m afraid that’s the best I can hope for?You understand?It isn’t cheating if he doesn’t have it in him to truly desire me back?”

Molly had hit the nail on the head, so to speak. “It would be like saying you were cheating on me if John took you in his arms and ravished you silly?” 

Her words were hurtful on many levels, but she’d said it with both kindness and a sad smile so he knew she was commiserating and not trying to put him off. 

“Yes, well.Anyway, we should discuss logistics.We need to chart your cycle so we maintain optimum fertility levels.This won’t lead to misplaced pair bonding... we really must be aware of the abominable chemical interplay in our psychology.I wouldn’t wish to hurt you ... again... for the world, you know?” He said the last part softly with a kiss to her cheek. 


	2. Allergies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is being nosy as the plan proceeds.

Chapter 2

Allergies

Sherlock arrived on the appointed evening with his overnight bag packed with romantic overtures.Well, what he considered to be tokens of love considering the circumstances. 

He was admitted and offered tea, which he frowned at and brought forth two bottles of Mycroft’s best champagne.Not his most expensive, but simply the best tasting, so he’d probably never notice.He had thousands of bottles down there so two were easily overlooked. 

Molly accepted them and giggled nervously.“Yes, well, I’ll just pop these in the fridge. I made a bit of salad, if you’re hungry.”

“I’m allergic to raw tomatoes.Once cooked they are fine.It’s all in the file.”He produced the file with a flourish.“My complete ish medical history.All that would be pertinent to the child.I redacted most injuries due to the OSA on my work, but the jabs and childhood illness... and plethora of ill advised physiological diagnosis are all there.I made notes of revised updates in the margins.The eighties were problematic and honestly evaluating children is a soft science at best and abuse in factual relevance to the child’s ability to out live their incorrect labels.”

“Oh ..erm good.I don’t care what they called you, you know?I made my own evaluations and other than the proclivity to addictive behaviour, and allergies... Just like all parents, we spin the wheel and take the miracle we are given.I’m not changing my mind.We are going to make a perfectly normal but extraordinary little human and we will love them, no matter who they are?”

Sherlock frowned and asked with a teasing tone yet a slither of trepidation underneath the surface, “What if he’s a serial killer?”

“Oh?Well, as his parents we’d probably have to cover it up.You could misdirect the police and I could hide the bodies? Problem solved!”She teased. 

Sherlock grinned, relaxing a bit.“Oh!Quite right.My Brilliant, Molly Hooper.”

He dug around in his bag again.

“Had a test...too.I never used dirty needles, but wanted you to know.Even when I was off my tits, even when I couldn’t remember, that... everything came back clean.And here is my drugs screen... so you know, and photos of my sperm... the count is slightly low but well within acceptable conceptive range and all the sperm are perfectly viable ..“

“You photographed your swimmers?”

“Yes, of course.You’re a doctor and would want proof.”

“Oh..look at this one?They are having a meeting... like dolphins!May have this framed.” She set one of the pictures to the side whilst perusing the others, fingers coming to her lips to hide her smile.

He’d deemed it a requirement of their interaction that she had an orgasm (yes, a real one, thank you... of course he could tell the difference) in order to insure maximum possibility of conception.He’d brought clinical studies on that subject as well, part of his romantic gestures.

Molly had scoffed. “I don’t usually, you know?”

“You don’t?Then in the first place, what is the purpose of ‘quite a lot of sex’ and in the second, what sort of horrible nutters are you dating, my dear?You will have to screen them better once you have a child in their midst.I’ll get Mycroft on it, because you know I’ll frighten them away if I do it myself. Though that is also an upside.More champagne?”

They had both quite enjoyed themselves in actuality.The first go had been a bit nervous and dragged out longer than was strictly necessary, but they’d giggled and made jokes and accomplished the mission.The first negative pregnancy test was slightly disheartening but, they knew that things could take more than once.

The second planned excursion, they hedged their bets and Sherlock shut his phone off for the entire weekend plus Friday.John had been snoopy, cautiously distrustful and about to accuse Sherlock of sneaking off for a relapse when he’d riffled through Sherlock’s luggage and discovered an item he didn’t expect.

He held up the small vibrator and then dropped it turning the hue of cranberries.“Sherlock?Are you taking off to do drugs or have you a dirty weekend planned?”

“Not... drugs!” Sherlock had hissed, teeth clamped and furious.“It Was your suggestion. Something about becoming human?If I recall?”

It had flustered John. “Right.Um okay then.” He’d glanced back in the case, picked up the vibrator again just to be sure it was what it seemed, once satisfied he’d dropped the offending object as if it had burned him. “Anyone I know?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“No reason. Condoms.You will be needing condoms.Hang on just a tick!” John stated leaving and quickly retuning with a ridiculously long ribbon of them.

John held them out as Sherlock stared at them in horror, mouth open in appalled silence. 

John snorted his nose and shook his head.He turned and tucked them away, zipping the bag and patting it.“Just..use the condoms? Yeah?I see a lot of ... things.Easily avoided.”He nodded to himself as if the subject was settled and headed to the kitchen to make tea.

“Spermicidal?I’m allergic to Spermicide.And raw tomatoes and nosy former flat mates!”Sherlock grumbled under his breath, not expecting John to hear.

A few moments later John appeared in his doorway, another ribbon of condoms in his hand this time.“I knew about the tomatoes. These are slick only.Should be fine.About the former flat mate bit... I’ve been thinking about that... and if you’d still be interested... well I’d like to talk about moving back in. With Rosie it will be more complicated but just think about—“

“Yes.The answer is always yes. Move tonight... or tomorrow... I’ll be out of your way.You can have this room if you like.It’s bigger.Or anything you like.You decide.Let me know on Monday.I’ll be back..then.I’m allergic to living alone ... it’s hateful,” Sherlock said sweeping his bag up and leaving before he said something that would spoil it.


	3. Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is great news, but Sherlock is finding the reality a bit stormy.

Chapter 3

Storm

They were on their third go when a rain soaked Molly entered the lab with a plastic stick in her hand and eyes shining?

Sherlock looked up from his sample of nail fungus on the microscope slide and gave an “Ohhhh” sound.“So we are...”

“Pregnant! We are!”Molly said waving the stick in triumph.

He couldn’t help it really.Her delight was sparking his own and he swept her up and around.They had achieved this glorious thing and the future held eons of Joy in the offing.He’d never been this happy.This was a thousand crime scenes and the world was perfect for one shining moment.

Then, he took another breath and the reality hit him.He’d created a being and now it was his job to guide him or her and protect him and yet know that they might be bullied or choke on a grape or not be chosen for friendship or fall off the swings or be kidnapped for being a Holmes or all the things he feared about Rosie magnified simply because he’d made this choice. He was not just John’s backup parent this time.He’d done this and the responsibility for this child’s happiness rested with his selfish wish to procreate and what if it all went wrong.Because of him, in spite of him, what if...

“Breath, Sherlock! You need to breath or you’re going to fall over.It’s fine.It’s all going to be fine!” Molly soothed. 

“How do you know?I will mess this up.I should have considered. It will be my fault if...”

“Stop it.Just think?You are brilliant with Rosie.She adores you.You can do this. “

“Sure?” He asked radiating utter doubt. 

Molly just nodded. 

“Okay,” he agreed and resolved. 

“There will be storms, Sherlock.There always are.But who could handle them better than someone as clever as you are?No matter what, you and I can do this.We are blood now.And it doesn’t mean what it does to some people, but I don’t have anyone anymore, and now I do.I have two people and I would weather anything for that.Do you see?”

“Yes.Good then.Not married but related by blood.I like that.It’s... um ... just so! Names.We need names?And things. We need... what do we need ?”

“We need to celebrate. Just this once, you are taking me for coffee.”

“Yes.Celebrate.Decaf? And ummmm.. Cake?We should go to that cake place?And dinner?Maybe?”

The trip to the cake place had been a hazard.The freezing rain had been blowing almost sideways and Sherlock had had to shield Molly with his coat.But, warm and full of sweets, they’d talked for hours about schools and names and decided dinner might just be best if Molly cooked it. 

John had texted.(Are you still at the lab?)

(No. Molly celebrating some sort of good news.Cooking me dinner.May stay here. Storm has the cabs all over the road. SH)

(Oh?What’s the good news?)

Sherlock hesitated but it was too soon to get into it and not in a text.

(No idea.Deleted it. SH)

He certainly did not delete that their hormones were sparking slightly and when he stayed over, he was free, single, and just found out he was about to be a father.Nobody could blame them for a tiny celebration.Let the storms rage outside.Let the storms crush the whole world right now, because here in this little flat, the whole world was multiplying cells at an unbelievable pace and it’s parents were not in love, but loved each other unspeakably through those tiny cells dividing at that moment. 

Blow me Billy boy Blow! 


	4. Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life has many surprises and in the measure of time, they dance.

Chapter 4

Dance

The storm continued into the next day.He’d asked casually how she wished to announce their adventure.

“Oh, not for a while yet.People don’t actually announce this until the first trimester has occurred.I don’t know if it’s practical or superstition, but usually anything that goes wrong, not that anything will, but it can, happens in the first trimester.It’s my first pregnancy, so you know, I want to wait.”

“What do you mean... by happen?”

“Oh there’s lots of things.The baby can just absorb.There’s miscarriage, and I’m not expecting anything to go wrong, but you know, If it did, I just want it to be private, you know?I don’t want the sad faces and maudlin looks from everyone.I mean things can happen and if that were to occur, we’d just try again. So, I’ll let you know, when the time is right.Then we can tell everyone and buy baby things, and plan better.Okay?”

“Certainly.Sounds reasonable.Should give me time to prepare.My mother is going to be a pest anyway, want to postpone that as long as possible.Perhaps when they enrol at Oxford?” 

“Berk!I’m sure your Mum is perfectly lovely.”

Molly was off and Sherlock had nothing pressing so it was afternoon before he returned to the flat.

John seemed to be in a bit of a funk.Sherlock played with little Bee, more fascinated by her than ever. John pretended to write on his blog, but mostly he seemed to be watching every move Sherlock made. 

Two days later John came home, tired and Sherlock offered to take Bee to the park so John could have a nap.

“What’s gotten into you?”

“I don’t know what you mean?”

“Yes you do.We’ve no cases on.And you seem...I don’t know...Happy.Not bored.What’s going on?” John accused.

“I... what?It’s a beautiful day.You look tired.Bee likes the park.How is that annoying you?”

“Don’t know.Just know it’s off.”

“I’m happy to have you both home.I was miserable. Alone doesn’t protect me any longer.”

John tilted his head a bit. “But you weren’t really alone.I mean you have someone now?”

Sherlock remained silent.What could he say?If he opened his mouth, ‘I only want you’ might come out in some form.

John sighed deeply resigned that Sherlock was not willing to volunteer any information. “Yeah, the park would be great.I could use a nap.” 

Days past and Sherlock read extensively about the first trimester and all the possibilities of things going wrong. Ectopic pregnancy, molar pregnancy, with all that could go wrong it was a wonder anyone made it to the birth stage.He had a doctor right across the room, and yet, couldn’t just talk to him about it. 

“Soo, not going out this weekend?”

Sherlock looked up from his computer. “I wasn’t intending to, no.”

Thunder rumbled outside. 

“Storms moving back in.News says severe weather tonight.Think it’s raining already.” John offered casually as he stared at his phone. 

“Mmmm.” Sherlock hummed with little interest. 

John waited eleven minutes.“How is Irene these days?”

Sherlock chewed his bottom lip.“She’s magnificently Happy.”

John snorted then muttered, “egotistical ponce...”

“She’s in Las Vegas, met some tech billionaire who has spoiled her and apparently talked her into retiring from her former occupations.Apparently she’s planning a run for Governor.”

“Irene?”

“No.The woman’s woman!The billionaire woman.”

“But, I thought...”

“No.Still gay, mostly. And stop doing that.You aren’t very good at it.” Sherlock slouched in his chair, putting his computer to the side.Lightning was striking nearby and he unplugged it for good measure.

“Oh.What am I not good at, then?”

“Thinking and getting to the point of conversations.”

“I was just wondering, you know.So it wasn’t, Irene, then?” John asked.

“No.And as far as I know, I am now finished with being humanised.You can stop dancing around the subject with your infernal curiosity.It wasn’t Irene.It was fine.And now you can leave me alone about it.”

John pouted for almost three minutes then suddenly stood and dug around for the remote.He clicked the buttons until music played through the television.

Sherlock furrowed his brow.“What are you doing?”

John marched up to his chair and held out his hand.“Dance with me, Sherlock?”

“You hate dancing.”

“Yeah, because I’m shit at it. But, I want to dance with you.Remember?Remember how, when you were teaching me, we talked?I... I want to talk, and ... dance with me?Please?”

Sherlock took a deep breath and stood, wondering what in the hell John was about now.“Take off your shoes. I’d like to be able to walk tomorrow without needing your old cane.” 

They soon found something of a rhythm, and John tried very hard. 

“I remember when we danced before, and things were mostly alright then, but, if I was honest, they weren’t great.I already knew I was making a mistake.Wanted to back out, even then.Couldn’t have cared less about all the frou-frou that you and Mary were having meltdowns over.”

“I wanted the most important day in your life to be perfect.” Sherlock murmured, slightly hurt by John’s dismissal of his effort. 

“Yeah, I get that, looking back.It was perfect.Even had an almost murder and we solved ... you solved it in time to save the life.That was a pretty great moment.”

“You saved him.I just pointed out he was dying and who done it.”The next song came on and it was more jazzy than the last so Sherlock added a bit of swing to the steps.John picked it up quickly and was actually improved by the more obvious beat.“I always wondered.Never could deduce it for sure.”

“Wondered?What?”

Sherlock spun John around as he blurted his question. “If you and he were more than battle buddies.If you were, in fact, lovers?Because, you don’t go for that, do you?So either you have been lying to me, or my deductions are slipping.” 

John was quiet for several stanzas.“Yeah.Okay. Yes.To what you asked.I ..He was... more.”

“I see.”

“Nope. No.I really don’t think you do.Let me... ummm.Okay, that day, when ... when I told you about cheating on Mary.I told you some other things, and I am pretty sure you have taken them wrong, mostly because I said them wrong, but... all that?I meant it.But I said Irene.See here’s the thing.I meant me, Sherlock. I wanted you to realise that I was the one who ... I don’t know, brings out the... “

They stopped dancing, as the music continued.John reached up and pulled Sherlock’s head to his level and then there was kissing.


	5. Choose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All about choices and what they mean.

Chapter 5

Choose

“John?”

“Please, just listen to me.We always get this so very wrong, and I can’t do this any more.Okay?I can’t.I want you to pick me?I don’t care who you had a shag with.I don’t care.Because, I’d very much like it if you would... let me throw my name into the pot... of people who love... you.”

Sherlock took only a millisecond to make his decision. “Yes.Don’t be an idiot, John.Of course I pick you. Haven’t you noticed, I always have.Every time.It isn’t even a choice.”

John’s face went from looking as if it were prepared to go to a colonoscopy to stunned to pure shining radiance. “That easy?All this time?We are idiots! God, dance with me.Dance with me forever, Sherlock Holmes!”

“Yes.I choose that.And more snogging, please?”

John had made his eyes scrunch up delightfully with his smile then had thoroughly snogged Sherlock out of breath. 

“Sooooo..” John said on a sigh, his eyes soft and fond.

“I don’t understand.Why now?Why tonight?” Sherlock’s brows were furrowing as he tried to extrapolate what had changed.

John smirked.“Don’t know.Why not.I just mean, I have missed some times I could have taken a chance.Always talked myself out of it.I thought you didn’t... feel things like this? I moved back, and you were seeing someone and it was driving me mad.I don’t want you to... fall for someone else. I kept picturing that night of my stag do, only this time reversed.I’ve no idea how you managed and then I realised, my choices always got in the way.I just chose to try... to be better.I mean, this... it could blow up in our faces.You’re an arse on your best days and I get very dickish. But, I’ll never know if I don’t speak up?”

“In the past, you have made it clear to everyone that I was not ... your boyfriend.It seemed to annoy you if anyone misinterpreted?” Sherlock ventured.

John’s head wobbled back and forth as he took a deep breath and held it for a beat before speaking.“Yes, I did.But not because of why you think.” 

“Oh?And what do I think?” Sherlock raised his chin in challenge.

“It wasn’t homophobic.I told you the first night it was all fine.Honestly, it was Molly. I mean god love her, she’s a gem, but she... has a bit of a notorious reputation.” John scratched his neck and shrugged.

“Molly?I don’t understand?”

John stepped back and turned down the music.He glanced at Sherlock and shrugged.“Let’s have some tea, and I’ll explain.”

John made tea and added a finger of scotch along with honey and milk.It wasn’t his normal way of drinking tea, and Sherlock wasn’t sure he liked it.John sipped it and sighed in appreciation. 

“My mum used to call this her “bone warmer”... My dad drank a lot, but I only recall her having a hot tea with whiskey of some sort, when it was cold or she was sick.She used to feed it to us with lemon, by the tablespoon, when we were sick.Associations are important.This?Makes me feel loved and cared for, strangely.”

“Childhood imprinting.” Sherlock agreed. 

“When we first met, people assumed things.If it had been true or even possible in my mind, it wouldn’t have annoyed me so much.But, I met Molly, and she was obviously gone on you and the way you treated her, I didn’t want to be that.”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes.“Didn’t want to be, what exactly?She’s my friend.”

John nods but looks at the floor, holding his cup in his hand to warm his hands.“Yeah, she’s fantastic.But around the hospital, well...Sherlock, they call her Renfield. Do you understand that reference?”

“From the novel, by Bram Stoker?The vampire one?”

“Surprised you got that in one.”

“I did read as a child!”

“Well, it isn’t nice, and I don’t approve of it, but behind her back, that’s what they call her.‘Send it down to Renfield, she’ll fast track it. So we can start treatments before the real results get back’ and it gets far far worse from there, Sherlock. “

“She’s doing them a favour and that’s how they... this is why I hate people.” Sherlock said swallowing the bile and anger, “Who?” He asked in his most deadly deep voice.

John sighed and pinched the bridge if his nose.“First, I should add that, I didn’t lose my standing at Bart’s because of your suicide.I chinned a doctor.Lucky I didn’t get my licence pulled entirely, because it wasn’t long after, I’d assaulted a policeman, here in the flat.” 

“Mycroft fixed it for you?” Sherlock both asked and stated.

“He fixed it a bit, yeah.”

“Go on?”

John looked up and smiled sadly.“He couldn’t fix what caused it.People thought... as a colleague and friend, people can look at us as a team and respect that we both contribute to our reputed outcomes. “

“Yes?”

“But when they called you a fraud, and you’d seemingly topped yourself, it meant I was a fraud as well.So, the easy way to twist the knife, was to call me Dr. John Seward.Do you see? If I was just your boyfriend and not actually clever too, it was insulting to both of us, the same way it is insulting to Molly?Can you understand that?That was why I denied their assumptions.” 

“You care what idiots think? Being my lover would be insulting? Because, I’m a monster... that’s the implication.”

“God no.Don’t do that.Well, you are a bit pasty and intense.” John smirked, hoping to tone down the anger radiating from Sherlock. “Look, a woman died, and Doctor Peterson was at fault.It happens.I’d told the truth, and he was furious.Ran into him in the cafeteria and he just couldn’t let it go.He said many things, which I ignored, but then, he sarcastically encouraged me, “Now that Dracula is ashes, you must be so frustrated.You should pop down the morgue and see if you can get a leg over old Renfield.She’s probably gasping now that she has no monster to get on her knees for’ and that’s when I hit him.Knocked out four teeth and resulted in a comminuted orbital wall fracture that eventually required surgical repair.So, I can’t practice or Locum at Bart’s ever again.” 

“You defended our honour?” Sherlock said then snickered.

“A bit.May have just exacerbated the rumours more than anything.”

“I see.” 

It was at that exact moment the world went brilliant white then totally dark.


	6. Power outage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talking in the dark can shine light on the monsters.

Chapter 6

Power outage

There was a moment of complete silence then several car alarms began wailing.

Unable to see anything, John sat perfectly still waiting on his eyes to adjust. “My first thought was that we were dead because your sister blew us up again.But the car alarms reassured me it was just the storm.No idea where my phone is, I’d use it as a torch, but have to find it first.”

Sherlock answered.“Mine’s in the kitchen on the charger.But I don’t mind the dark.It always made me feel safe.”

“I was afraid of the dark as a child.Sometimes now, again.It depends,” John admitted. 

“Well, I’m the monster, so it stands to reason.I don’t have any candles, but I could light the Bunson burner if it would help?”

“I’ll need to check on, Rosie.She’ll probably sleep through, but... “

Sherlock rose and seemed to make his way into the kitchen as if the lights were on. 

“How do you do that?” John asked as Sherlock’s face was illuminated by a small flame and then a larger one. 

“Spacial awareness, John.The flat in my mind palace is superimposed on the currently dark one.Only the odd item will be out of place. I’m popping up to check on Bee.”

John used the pale flicker from the kitchen to hunt for his phone, his eyes beginning to adjust to the low light. 

“You-Who?Boys?I brought you an oil lamp, Mrs. Turner says lightning caused a power surge, may be morning before we get it back.Jubilee is down.Maybe some others. Where’s Sherlock?”

“Thank you, Mrs. Hudson.You’re an angel.He’s checking on Rosie.Wow, I was on the Victoria line the last time.It was hot.Just miserable, really. “ John took the lamp out of her hand gratefully. 

“Well, this time it’s going to be cold, dear.Better start a fire now.The boiler would work but the regulator is electric.Didn’t think about it when I updated. Maybe Sherlock can check to see if we can switch back for now.”

“I’ll ask him.Will you be okay, down there?You could hunker down with us.I’ll just get the fire going.” John said moving in front of the grate and wadding up paper.

“Oh, I already had a fire going.I like to read by the fire.I was just at the good part where the dashing Pirate Captain was going to declare his undying love for the tavern maid he’d rescued when she was kidnapped.I just nipped up to check on you boys.Oh!There’s a love?”

Sherlock emerged holding Rosie.“She wasn’t frightened, but she was awake.I didn’t want to leave her in the dark.”

“Nana!” Rosie declared. 

John smiles and sighed.This was not how he’d wanted the evening to proceed.

Mrs Hudson looked between the men for a moment.“Well!It’s about time.Rosie?How about you keep Nana company until the power comes back on?My flat is cozy, and I imagine we could find a biscuit somewhere about.It’s too cold up here and your fathers don’t even have the fire going yet?Hmmm?”

Sherlock had carried Rosie, six plush toys and her violet camo woobie down the stairs.He’d winked at Mrs Hudson and whispered a heartfelt, “Thank you, Hudders.”

She’d giggled.“Oh, go on with you.But, you owe me details, later.How you finally caught him.”

“That’s what I’m still trying to sort myself.‘My poor body, madam, requires it: I am driven on by the flesh.’” Sherlock quoted. 

Mrs Hudson tittered, “and needs must, when the devil drives.Don’t talk him out of it, Sherlock.Let him lead.”

It was a caution Sherlock took to heart. 

They returned to their chairs with glasses of straight whiskey this time, burnished golden by the soft lamp light and the fire.

“Are you going to get me drunk and take advantage of me?” Sherlock mused as he accepted the glass and took a sip, eyes wide with flirtation. 

John snorted and grinned.“It’s not a trick, it’s a plan, you cock.But yeah, limber but not impaired... if we get this sorted.”

“The talking part?Which we are both bollocks at, by the way.Here be dragons.” Lightening dramatically punctuated Sherlock’s stolen words.He raised his glass in acknowledgment of the occurrence.

“Cabs and lightning and Me... we all come at once when Sherlock Holmes calls.” John seemed to be mostly joking but there was a note of self loathing glittering in the offing.

“Soo, where were we?Oh yes. You didn’t want to be, just my boyfriend.”

“I think that’s not what I’ve said, at all.To be your boyfriend, god that sounds like we’re twelve years old, to be your significant other would be an honour, Sherlock.” John said mostly to his glass of Scotch.

Sherlock grumbled, but stopped as John held up one finger, before Sherlock interrupted.

“However, what would not be an honour would be to find myself in a situation of a power imbalance equal to Molly Hooper.She’s not a stupid person.She has more degrees than I do.Yet, her heart has led her into this sad cycle of unrequited, pathetic, unnoticed lovelorn addict of the untouchable Sherlock Holmes and I identify with that, and choose not to fall into the same trap. So yes, have I had opportunity to... take this a step further?I have.Was it cowardice or homophobic fear that stopped me?Hell no.You know me.When have I ever been either of those things?”

“John... you really are entirely wrong about Molly—“ Sherlock tried to interject.

“No, I’m not. And to some extent, neither are the people who have made fun of her.She has spent years pining over someone who cannot love her back, and whatever psychology is behind that, I don’t have it in me.That’s the point. “

Sherlock stands up and goes to look out the window. He cannot do this while looking at John. “Molly Hooper is a strong, gentle woman who is a better human than any of the rest of us combined.That anyone would be cruel to her, You above all, makes me physically ill.I think we’ve come to the end of our conversation.Because if you keep talking, I am very likely to change my mind.I would not be alive today, if not for her bravery and steadfast loyalty, so anyone who has a mind to look down on her for it will deal with me.I won’t have it , John.Least of all from you. You see she does understand one thing perhaps you have not.I too had been placed in that catastrophe of the pathetic. I’ve pined for years for a man I assumed could never love me back.I would have done anything for him.I would have died for him, if there’d been no other option.Technically, I suppose I did. I watched him marry the wrong person and put his own happiness above my own. Didn’t work out so well, but she and I have had that in common for a very long time. Probably bonded over it, in fact.”

“I’m sorry.Who was it?” John asked as if in pain. 

Sherlock spun, unable to fathom the obtuseness of the man before him. “Make a deduction,” he hissed.

“Ohhh,” John replied and sipped his drink.He hammered his fingers on the arm of his chair and glanced up for a spit second before speaking.“It makes sense really.He’s still dishy.Fifteen years ago he’d have certainly turned your head.Is that why you delete his first name?”

Sherlock slouched in utter confusion.“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Greg?”

“Who?”

John rolled his eyes, “Lestrade!Detective Inspector, silver fox, dishy, your mainline supplier of crime scenes?”

“Are you having me on?How can you say you love me when you don’t see me at all?You, you idiot!You’ve been so busy writing little stories about me, you began to believe your own legends. Everything I’ve done since the day we met, has been me, offering you coffee and you frowning that it’s too sweet! Who is it you actually care about John?Me, or the man on that blog?” Sherlock stops speaking, fury making it hard to get his breath.He takes an enormous deep breath and holds it then as it’s released he murmurs, “sorry.”

“Besides, Lestrade is in love with my brother... they are ... whatever... eww... delete.” Sherlock makes a gesture as if waving away a bucket of vomit.(Not That Sherlock would be put off by a bucket of vomit if it had a solution to a crime plunged into it)

John isn’t looking at him.He’s just staring off into space, his forefinger worrying his lips. 

“No.I don’t see it.I don’t see anything like that.”

“Well, they are.Trust me.Won’t be housebreaking any time in the near future.Two bottles of Champagne are not worth ... never mind.”

“Good on them, but no.I don’t see any time you might have been pining for me that I can pick out!”

“I left your wedding early.

“You hate weddings.You wrote songs to Irene when she died?” John said pointing his finger to make his point. 

“No.She made you jealous and I was using her to make you realise that you cared about me! That door closed and I wrote her name on the score, but I was mourning that your green eyed monster had disappeared. Though I was gutted by her death, because she is fun and interesting.”

“So you never slept with her?”

“Yes, Okay, I did, but not until later.After I saved her in Karachi.”

“Wait what?”

“I faked her death, the second one, to save her and get Mycroft off her tail. We had... dinner.”Sherlock stood straighter as if expecting an attack.

John’s eyes widen and he smiled his angry at Sherlock, closed lip smile.“How was that, then?”

“Do you really wish to know?”

“Just curious.What do her fees run?”

“More than you could ever afford.I wasn’t a client!”

Sherlock cleared his throat and continued his voice more gentle. 

“I had just saved her life, she was genuinely frightened.She’d also realised just how alone she was in the world when the only human she wished to say goodbye to, was me.But, I had cared back enough to not only keep track of her, but to plan a daring escape.There were endorphins and a rather large amount of alcohol involved.She was very kind to me.” 

“Sorry.Really?” John swallows the last of his drink, the finds the empty tumbler fascinating as he responds, “It’s none of my business.I feel like an idiot now, trying to encourage you to give sex a try, maybe learn to care about someone.” John pours himself more scotch. 

“I jumped off a building. I pulled you from a fire. I saved you from Mad Chinese smugglers and a Semtex vest.I told you, you were my friend...”

“You poisoned me twice.”

“Only once, successfully .You walked into the gas on your own. And I watched over you that whole day, and never did it again.” Sherlock added. 

“When you were getting on the plane, what would have been our last words..you could have said something.You made a joke?”

“John, I was in the actual process of committing suicide.I was afraid.I didn’t want to drown, castrated on a plank in Eastern Europe. I didn’t want my burdens on your face.I wanted to take your smile with me.I figured if you didn’t know by then, how much I loved you, then you really just didn’t want to know.”

John covered his face and leaned forward, “How could you?” His head began to shake and his body jittered, as he began to sob. 

Sherlock approached him like a dangerous animal he was trying to gentle.“When I came back, you were so angry.You had Mary, and Bee was on the way.You had everything you wanted and I... I only had cocaine. I was due a full blown relapse.The nightmares.And, I’d dreamed of coming home... I’d lived on that dream for so long.Eons of pain...holding the faith of ‘when I get home.’ But when I got here, home was gone.All the accessories were still here, but my home, was gone.My map was outdated.Everyone had lurched in time except me. You were so far away and my only link to you was Mary. She knew within days, you know?I gave her my word, that I would never... And she promised to share you and was most generous, really.She liked me.And at the time, it was as close to home as I could have, because you didn’t. Not anymore, at least.”

John lurched up from his chair and threw his arms around Sherlock.“I’m so sorry.I am.God, I’m sorry.This is not attractive.I promise I’m usually better at this part..the seduction thing.It just gets all jumbled and goes sixes and sevens with you. Because, it’s too much and too deep and let me blow my bloody nose and brush my teeth and then, I want to stop this.We’ve wasted all this time.We’ll sort it. We will, but right now.I need to ... I need to show you... that coming back... it was the right thing.The world without you is too damned dark to imagine.”

Sherlock handed John a handkerchief and let him blow his nose, but that was the limit of his patience.He took John’s head firmly with both hands and kissed him with all his sorrow, slowly walking John back towards the bedroom. 


	7. Cereal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fruity bits and a horrified unicorn.

Chapter 7

Cereal

In the near total darkness, they fell on the bed and fumbled about.Sherlock’s bed seemed to contain a mountain of laundry and the pillows were skewed about and John knocked something over and something crunchy seemed to spill out.Probably a box from all the crap he was constantly ordering on Amazon.But John had other things in his mind at the moment and some styrofoam packing was not going to get in the way. 

Half of him wished he could see his consulting detective naked, and the other half of him gloried in the discovery and sounds elicited by touch alone. 

It was not romance and roses, but it was frantic and mind blowing and brought forth in the sentient richness of the an eclipsed sensory input.They healed and cried amongst the rubble with sweat and hidden tears of joy in finally finding the light of bliss in each other. 

They were safe and warm in the dark cocoon of unknown twists of blanket and trouser leg.John could smell the washing liquid and it had a fruity undertone that made him feel a bit hungry.Sherlock had sated their thirst with bottles of water he apparently stored under his bed and they too were added to the tumultuous disarray in this land of murk and honey sweet shagged out bliss. 

John was just drifting off to sleep when her heard a subtle yomp of someone nibbling.

He chuckled.“What the hell are you eating?”

“Frootloops?I think.”

“Can I have some?”

“Help yourself.They are all over the bed.” 

John felt about, fingers tips landing on a pile of what he’d assumed was packing peanuts, only now realising the familiarity of the shape and the scent of the colourful Cereal.He started laughing as he popped a few in his mouth. 

“Wats so funny?” Sherlock asked munching happily. 

“Bit, not good.You realise these are stuck all over us, yeah?We had sex for the first time in cereal?Bit creepy considering the whole Culverton Smith case?I thought they were packing peanuts stuck to my arse?”

“We are not cereal killers, we are cereal shaggers?”Sherlock laughed too. They fed each other the now slightly dodgy with body fluids, fruity bits and laughed at how completely mad they both were, sitting in the dark, snuggled down onto laundry, naked and no hope of finding a garment to pop on should the need arise, eating snacks off each other’s knee-caps and other less mentionable places. 

John awoke to grey light and a unicorn staring at him from a crushed package that from the unicorns bent expression, did not approve of the night before’s proceedings.From the stain smeared across the bridge of his nose, he’d gotten quite the close up experience. John looked down at himself. “Oh fuck me!”

“Okay?” Sherlock said sleepily.

“Sherlock, we are covered in mushed sticky cereal.We need showers, right now.”

“Mmmmph.Don’t care.No hot water.Powers still out.Taken all the freezing baths I’m allowed for one lifetime in Serbia. Have your wicked way with me or go back to sleep.”

“Why was there cereal in your bed in the first place?” John demanded as he picked colourful Os that had dried to his stomach and attached themselves to his sparsely furred body. 

“Rosie was helping me fold clothes.She was hungry.”

John laughed despite his irritation. “Well, at least the activity that spoiled all that work, was worth it. God, what a mess we’ve made.”

Sherlock snickered. “Can you imagine trying to sort the crime scene if we’d been murdered in our sleep? What can we deduce about two naked men covered in cereal amongst five loads of laundry, half of which belong to a child?”

“God no.And poor Mrs. Hudson.The police here, grilling her about suspects?”

Sherlock then lost it just as he wheezed, “They’d call Mycroft to identify us!His face!”

“Oh no, the best would be Lestrade trying write up the report!The victims appeared to be covered in semen and rolled in Unicorn Frootloops, prior to death!They’d enter it in the data base and everyone at the yard would view the photos and be put off certain types of cereal , for the rest of their lives!”

“Tiny donuts of death! For the blog... though not your blog, unless you became a ghost writer.” Sherlock punctuated his sentence by tossing a piece of cereal in the air and catching it in his mouth. 

“Please God, let our eventual deaths be more dignified!”

“Boring... for once the preferable hope.”

“Well, I’m heating water on the hob. This is disgusting.” John finally said when one of the loops had left a bare patch on his chest when he’d pulled it off.“Jesus, and building a fire.It’s bloody freezing in here. “


	8. Skeptical

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has doubts about new relationships and the boys are not immune.

Chapter 8

skep·ti·cal

/ˈskeptək(ə)l/

1.  
not easily convinced; having doubts or reservations

The morning light steadily grew, but it was a hesitant light of cool grey and not filled with much warmth.Sherlock and John had made the best they could of the clean up and John had made eggs and streaky bacon as Sherlock had filled two bin bags with laundry that would need to be done again.He’d changed the sheets and made his bed up again, just in case they felt like repeating last night,except as adults, without the improvised sploshing. 

Sherlock sat down at the table and feigned disappointment.“What?No cereal?Hardly breakfast at all without a bowl of cereal.”

John smirked.“We’ve Weetabix, unless you’d prefer we save them... scatter them willy-nilly on the sofa, just in case we fancy another go?” 

“Never knew you were so kinky, John.”

“Lovers should know the worst about each other?” John smiled fondly, thinking of when they’d met.

“Just so.I think that ship probably has sailed, don’t you?What could we possibly discover at this stage of the game that could put us off, considering what we’ve seen and been through together so far?”

John’s face started to laugh then grew more serious, “Let’s not test that, if you don’t mind.There are things that could... we both have... neither of us are perfect.” He dithered, censoring his actual thoughts.

Sherlock remained quiet, waiting for John to say what he was actually thinking.He didn’t know how to respond. John was already thinking of ways to to break up with him.

After ten minutes of silence, Sherlock could stand it no longer.“ I don’t understand?What do you mean, precisely?”

John tilted his head, “Nothing really.There are just no perfect relationships.”

“Mmmm.I suppose our case files prove that. People make declarations of love, then murder each other, hide the bodies, and fake tears for the media to help ... bring them back or just let them know they are ‘Okay’ all the time. I don’t understand why they go to so much trouble.Why not just leave?”

“People can be cold blooded.”

“Then what about the victims?How could they not see that love has turned so dark?” Sherlock wondered out loud. “There have to be obvious signs.”

John set his fork down and looked up from his phone.“How would you murder me?”

“Easy, poison.You’re too adept at fighting and firearms to overpower.It would have to be something pleasant though.You’re a doctor and would recognise any symptoms of arsenic or other traditional means.And you?Would you shoot me?”

“Probably not.Your brother would come after me... and he has very long arms and the patience of a sphinx.I wouldn’t want to be his focused personal mission.No, you trust me.I’d wait until you were actually ill, and inject you with heroine instead of antibiotics.You’d probably realise it, but you’d not care in a few seconds.Blame your death on a tragic relapse and Mycroft would never suspect. I’d be the grieving widower...again.Gotten pretty good at it.Could probably fake it better than most at this point.”

“That’s actually... would probably work a treat.Thought about killing me a lot, have you?” Sherlock grinned.

“Thought about strangling you, on an embarrassingly frequent basis.But no, that was off the top of my head.Of course if I was angry enough, I might not particularly care.Might try to strangle you somewhere public, like in a posh place like the Landmark,” John said with a shrug and a dangerous little grin. 

“Or a kabob shop?”Sherlock joined in.

“Might do, though technically that was a head butt which I learned from you, by the way.”

Sherlock reach up and wiggled his nose as if checking that it was still affixed to his face.John snorted his laugh and sopped up yolk with his toast.

“Do you suppose, sometimes victims just choose to die rather than live with knowing?They just let themselves... accept?” Sherlock asked in a hushed distance voice.He used his fork to repeatedly cut his eggs into increasingly smaller bits without actually eating them.

John swallowed, set his toast back on his plate and leaned back in his seat.He scratched at something dried on the table and didn’t meet Sherlock’s gaze. “Is that what you did?In the Morgue?”

“Do you honestly want the real answer?”

“Yeah, Sherlock?I want to understand, you didn’t even raise your hands to protect yourself, much less fight back... in a real fight, we’d probably end exhausted before one of us could do any major damage to the other.We have similar skill levels.I’ve seen you fight, even high.”

“Well, to be fair, I was a bit more than high.Let’s back up a few steps.I thought you’d come, at least to yell at me, when I ... when I got bad enough.I thought when Lestrade banned me from crime scenes, you’d jump in to come save me.But you didn’t and it got harder every day, to remember why I was doing this and trying to hold on to the plan.It wasn’t much of a plan, actually.”

“No.Just to be clear, Sherlock, your plan was total shit.” John rose from the table and put his plate in the sink.He took Sherlock’s plate as well, since he’d obviously eaten all he would.John tilted his head at Sherlock indicating they should move to the sitting room. 

Sherlock detoured to the sofa and got the throw, dropping it over John, then taking the one off the back of the chair and putting it over the other one. 

“Ta.I understand why the Victorians were so overdressed now.Imagine this place without thermal windows and this being the main source of heat?”

“There would have been a kitchen fire as well.Probably cast iron, for cooking and heat.Would have been misery in the summer as well.I think it’s stored up on the third floor.Whole other flat up there, you know? Packed with rubbish, of course.Mrs. Turner next door lets three flats and two studios in the same space, though Hudders makes more in the long run, from Speedy’s”. 

“Is that what we’re going to talk about then?Mrs Hudson’s finances?”

Sherlock gathered a quilt from his room and wrapped it around himself before tucking his legs and feet up in the chair, leaving only his head and one hand exposed. 

“I kept telling myself that you just didn’t know.About how bad the drugs were getting? The message was not being properly conveyed.If you just saw me? So we made the Hudson Hornet Drive of unspeakable death out to your therapist, well, where she’d lived whilst alive... and you looked at me, like those people must look at their soul mates just before they slip the knife in.”

“You were drinking florist’s water out of a vase! It had gone green.”

“So I pushed you to show me, again.Molly and the ambulance were a prop.It was meant to bring out the territorial John.You’d never allowed anyone else to doctor me before.You would have only been satisfied with what you saw with your own eyes!”

John’s brows went up and he scrunched his mouth into an odd configuration as he chewed the inside of his cheek before deciding to speak. “I have a confession to that.I didn’t want you to see how far into the bottle I’d crawled.My hands were shaking.I couldn’t lecture you when, I couldn’t even ... I was also incredibly angry with you at that moment.”

“Ahh, I already knew, about the drinking. You asked me if I needed a hit in the limo. You didn’t try to stop me.You waited outside. Had your flask in your pocket, thought I didn’t know.There are times when I’m a bit... I was so hurt that you didn’t care, I doubled my dose.I was ... incapable of protecting myself, couldn’t feel a thing and at the time, at least you were paying attention and touching me.”

“Jeezus, Sherlock?”

“I was very disconnected from the world. It was like watching one movie with the sound off whilst having the audio to three other movies blasting in my head, just a constant barrage of meaningless noise. Had been since my return, in fact, except when you were with me, in hospital and then here for a bit. I don’t mean to make excuses for myself, but I was not completely sober from Appledore to the Morgue. I fooled everyone, except perhaps Mycroft... until Mary died.Then, after reading your letter, I just... I couldn’t be arsed to care.”

“Actually, Mary knew.Both the living one and the one I conjured up, just to be clear.Tried to talk to me about it.Bit her head off.I’m sorry.I didn’t mean any of what I said in that letter. I thought I did, at the time.Molly hated me for it.Still came to take care of Rosie, but it was never the same. You are not the only recipient of her smacks.Well deserved, but shocking, nonetheless. “ John shook his head and leaned back in his chair closing his eyes. “Stir the fire.It’s cold in here.” 

Sherlock complied, creating a roaring display.John watched him, a soft smile finally touching his face.

“I have doubts about this. Us?One moment I’m sure it’s a mistake.The next, I am overwhelmed that we are finally here.I don’t mean to waffle, it just seems that getting what I want the most makes me think something terrible will happen.”

“Cherophobia is a form of magical thinking, John.We all do it to some extent.If you believe you can do something, your more likely to be able to do it.But, being happy doesn’t create bad omens.However, being a bit sceptical within a relationship, should be healthy.If more people would keep one eye open, rather than being blinded by love, fewer of them would end up dead at the hand of their spouses.”

“Rather lofty advice coming from someone who goes around telling people that he’s a high functioning sociopath, which is an outdated term at best. Was that an actual childhood diagnosis or did you just make it up too?The only one in the world?”

“Oh, that’s just to frighten the idiots away.Saves time.”

“Guess that means I’m smarter than I look?”

Every electronic in the flat began beeping as the power came back on. 


	9. Velvet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holidays and velvet.

Chapter 9

Velvet

[For some little time his eyes rested thoughtfully upon the sinewy forearm and wrist, all dotted and scarred with innumerable puncture-marks. Finally, he thrust the sharp point home, pressed down the tiny piston, and sank back into the velvet-lined armchair with a long sigh of satisfaction.](https://www.azquotes.com/quote/1256623?ref=velvet)

[Arthur Conan Doyle](https://www.azquotes.com/author/4117-Arthur_Conan_Doyle)

The first weeks were velvet, soft, rich, and gentle. They shagged but they also made slow, delicious worship of the entire concept of making up for lost time.Days were spent in subtle seductive glances and gestures awaiting the moment that tiny John shaped eyes would fall to dreams. 

John was especially adept at drawing the proceedings out to near madness.Reducing a Consensual Consulting Detective to a writhing mass of nerve endings and embarrassing sounds, was his favourite game. He was skilled and used every bit of his medical knowledge to incredible advantage.Why any woman would desert this man was beyond all understanding if he displayed this level of aptitude and enthusiasm with his parade of female bed mates.

Of course he did know, theoretically, that John was a pneumatic hammer whilst putting up shelves.He’d heard enough in the first eighteen months of their acquaintance.Then later, second hand quips had confirmed his observations. Mary had dropped hints.She’d not come out directly, but there was a cruel side to her when he’d annoyed her.“Sorry, Sherlock, can’t come out to play tonight, John had two days off.You know how he gets.I’m exhausted.!”She’d always confided little tid bits like that when she was feeling challenged for John’s affection.

Velvet whispers in the dark against his velvet winter dressing gown that appeared to be John’s weakness.He touched Sherlock 40% more when Sherlock wore the velvet one than he did when wearing the silk ones.Thus, Sherlock ordered a velvet suit for their planned excursion to the opera for Sherlock’s birthday. 

Christmas was in the offing and Mrs Hudson had festooned their flat with a decidedly extravagant amount of crinkly shiny crap and got away with it when even John complained, because she’d played the “it’s for the baby” card along with her big “You’re going to hurt me if you keep going “ warning eyes.They were effective, because he couldn’t stand to hurt her feelings if he was actually paying attention and he needed her unsolicited,effusively given anyway, advice to navigate this blazing trail of romantic adventure. 

He bought Rosie a Christmas dress.Well, he’d taken her with him to his tailor for a fitting and she’d charmed the man and he’d begged Sherlock to let him make a dress for her. The results were outstanding and had put him in extra good favour with John and Mrs. Hudson.It was a cunning little kit, and Rosie approved of the chocolate and gold brocade velvet with silken cream lace.It wasn’t really Christmas colours, which made it seem even more decadent.

There were velvet bows upon every eye-fall and red velvet cake in the kitchen.The most delicious velvet of all was Sherlock touching his lips to the velvet of John’s glans in the secret muted light of their most intimate moments. 

Sherlock had never really been encased in happiness before, except for the momentary velvet escape of some of his experimental cocktails involving heroine. This was one moment after another times thousands and he would need to expand his mind palace if this continued.How could he dare to forget these moments of golden velvet. His heart beat strong and true with contentment and even Mycroft showing up bearing gifts could not put him off.The world was perfect. The velvet sky was full of stars. 


	10. Handle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feeding people is an expression of love.

Chapter 10

Handle

Sherlock managed the holidays this year and when they finally ended with the celebration of his exiting his mother’s womb, though he really felt She should be the one gifted for doing all of the work, there was a dreary melancholia that seeped into London and whispered into Baker Street. 

A temperature inversion had caused the legendary London fog to live up to its reputation.The city was practically shut down.Driving was impossible as was walking.People were falling into the underground, unable to see their next step or the lighted signs.Piccadilly Circus looked like aliens were landing, though the colourful lighted signs couldn’t be read, they gave off diffused lights of ridiculous hew when all else was grey and break light red. 

The world was damp and the criminals lazy, though Baker Street was cozy, the tree needed disposing of and the tinsel was sad packing away in boxes, and sorted into plastic compartments hoping the rats wouldn’t nest in them before the next year. 

Sherlock had kept apprised of all Molly was up to.He visited often, actually wanting to hear every detail of her condition.He’d read that it was the father’s duty to see to her cravings and knowing how she loved fruits, he’d had cases of oranges, pomegranate, and grapefruit sent to her for Christmas.He worried about her nutrition with focus he’d never acquired for his own, but her transport was making a human, his human, and optimal nutrition was all he could really do to affect the future at this point. 

Deliveroo became his most dialed number. On Tuesday she preferred lavish salads, but by Thursday she craved fried foods.In the weekends, she preferred to cook so he saw that her fridge was stocked with organic ingredients.

He went to the scan and watched as the kidney bean of cells had transformed into a child with hands and a tiny face.The heartbeat had stopped his with pure human error so profound he felt physically ill.Perhaps that was just him holding his breath. Because when he replayed the recording, he still felt strange, but not as if he’d pass out. 

The fact he was going to be a father and the fact he was turning into one did weigh on him though.With his research on Molly’s nutritional needs, he became aware that biscuits and fizzy drinks for breakfast when John was away, though appreciated by Rosie, were in fact, doing her brain a disservice. Even John was shockingly lax in his allowance of sweets and nutrient deficiency from cardboard dinosaur shaped chicken globs was sure to affect her mind. He couldn’t bear the thought of her not being allowed to pilot her flying car due to a future IQ requirement she couldn’t meet because her fathers had fed her garbage. 

He began cooking. John waited a week, carefully observing before finally giving in to his curiosity.“So, arsenic or antifreeze?” John asked looking at his plate.

“I beg your pardon?”

“What are you feeding us?Is it for a case?You don’t cook.You barely acknowledge that food exists and now you have cooked every night for a week.You prepare Rosie’s food separately, so what are you poisoning me with this time?”

“Ohh.Micronutrients.Good for brainwork. I just cut hers into pretty shaped in the style of obento to entice her visually to accept the new foods.It is quite the rage in Japan, and Japanese children eat several hundred different foods per week whilst western children tend to exist on two dozen, mostly involving sugar and bleached flour and a disgusting number of preservatives. “

“So, you’re saying this isn’t an experiment or for a case?This is just you... handling fatherhood?” John picked up an orange wedge and popped it in his mouth. 

“There are no cases on.This fog is unbearable and so yes, call it an experiment to see if optimal nutrition has a positive affect on Rosie’s growth, behaviour and intellectual capacity.”

“What happens when you do have a case?” John asked tentatively.

“Then we make do and she can eat crap for a few hours.I’m not going to be the nutrition Gestapo, if Mrs Hudson is watching her, gives her a biscuit, so what.The woman has managed to keep us alive for some time, challenging as that is, though I do hope to steer her towards fresh ingredients where convenient. Is that a problem?” 

“No.No, Sherlock.Look, I’m sorry.I was mostly just joking...about the poisoning but.Just..I am always surprised by what you just dive in and handle.Tear down a criminal network, exceptional but within your working skill set.Solve a locked room murder, every day occurrence . This?This just wasn’t on my radar as a Sherlock thing in the range of possibilities.So, I’m just saying, with me working all week that this is. Good, yeah, very nice and... thanks?”

“Just to be clear, I’ve no intention of learning to do the washing up. I cook, you handle the rest of it.” Sherlock smirked as he glanced at the pile of dishes in the sink. 

John cleared his throat.“I don’t know, you seem pretty keen on laundry.”

“Shut up.”


	11. Salt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can’t always see the wounds, until you pour the salt.

Chapter 12

Salt

John scratched at his upper lip, a tell that he was on the verge of anger.

“I’m sorry.She was very alone and even strong people have breaking points.I just wheeled myself two floors down to her doctors office.I was gone an hour. Why are you angry?” Sherlock attempted to cool the situation.

“You should have told me?This is exactly what always gets us into trouble. “ John scratched his head in frustration. 

“I never know how to tell you things, because this is always the reaction I get.I don’t know how to—“

“Wait, so you knew?You knew and lied to me?When I asked you?You already knew.”

“I wasn’t my place to tell. She asked me to wait.”

“Jeezus, next you will be telling me you’re the father of Molly’s...”John stopped and his eyes narrowed. 

Sherlock raised his chin, struggling to keep his face neutral, but his gasp had given him away. 

“Sherlock? You’re making that face. No—“

“John it’s—“

“You?Dammit?You?How the hell... and what are you doing?Hmm?With me?”

“Let me explain. “

“No.You just stop, right there.I want this to be perfectly clear.You are the father of Molly Hooper’s child?You?We are together and you are sleeping with her?”

“Yes.I am the father.No, I have not slept with her since we became... this.”

“And you left her to be with me, knowing what you’d done and not giving a damned?” John was pacing and so very angry. “You’ve done some really shitty things, Sherlock, but this takes the cake. No.Just no.We... you and me... done.Got it?”

“John!You aren’t listening?”

“Because you lie. Nothing more to listen to.Just more salt in the wounds, and ... I’m getting some air.Don’t wait up.” John grabbed his coat and shot down the stairs.

Sherlock sat in shocked silence.He didn’t know what to do. 

(I told John.I think he’s left me.He was very angry. I don’t understand.SH)

(I’m sorry. Did you explain?)

(He wouldn’t listen.He left without hearing a word.I’m not sure what to do. SH)

(Give him some time. If he doesn’t come around, I’ll have a chat with him.)

(Probably not a good idea.SH)


	12. Salt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I knew it was going to be hard, but I had not counted on the February Weather. I am dropping a batch of chapters like snow on the Midwest. Thanks for your patience.

Chapter 12

Salt

John scratched at his upper lip, a tell that he was on the verge of anger.

“I’m sorry.She was very alone and even strong people have breaking points.I just wheeled myself two floors down to her doctors office.I was gone an hour. Why are you angry?” Sherlock attempted to cool the situation.

“You should have told me?This is exactly what always gets us into trouble. “ John scratched his head in frustration. 

“I never know how to tell you things, because this is always the reaction I get.I don’t know how to—“

“Wait, so you knew?You knew and lied to me?When I asked you?You already knew.”

“I wasn’t my place to tell. She asked me to wait.”

“Jeezus, next you will be telling me you’re the father of Molly’s...”John stopped and his eyes narrowed. 

Sherlock raised his chin, struggling to keep his face neutral, but his gasp had given him away. 

“Sherlock? You’re making that face. No—“

“John it’s—“

“You?Dammit?You?How the hell... and what are you doing?Hmm?With me?”

“Let me explain. “

“No.You just stop, right there.I want this to be perfectly clear.You are the father of Molly Hooper’s child?You?We are together and you are sleeping with her?”

“Yes.I am the father.No, I have not slept with her since we became... this.”

“And you left her to be with me, knowing what you’d done and not giving a damned?” John was pacing and so very angry. “You’ve done some really shitty things, Sherlock, but this takes the cake. No.Just no.We... you and me... done.Got it?”

“John!You aren’t listening?”

“Because you lie. Nothing more to listen to.Just more salt in the wounds, and ... I’m getting some air.Don’t wait up.” John grabbed his coat and shot down the stairs.

Sherlock sat in shocked silence.He didn’t know what to do. 

(I told John.I think he’s left me.He was very angry. I don’t understand.SH)

(I’m sorry. Did you explain?)

(He wouldn’t listen.He left without hearing a word.I’m not sure what to do. SH)

(Give him some time. If he doesn’t come around, I’ll have a chat with him.)

(Probably not a good idea.SH)


	13. Boss

Chapter 13 Boss

Sherlock was now officially furious with John.John had not listened to one word from him and to just twist that knife a bit further, he’d rung Mycroft. Mycroft didn’t call Sherlock.He called Mummy. Mummy was dipping out of lecture mode and crossing into planning mode when Sherlock finally shouted, “This isn’t a conversation, Mummy.Perhaps you and Mycroft and John can get my life sorted and skip to the final decisions.No reason for me to participate or offer any facts before you take the wheel and drive off the cliff!”

With that he hung up and turned off his phone. He put on his coat and checked on Rosie before hitting his stash of fags and standing on the pavement in front of 221 to smoke.

He was a grown man and he had every right to make his own decisions.The last thing he needed was people assuming they were his boss and he their wayward underling. John had judged him without even hearing him out.It was unacceptable and if that’s how he felt then Sherlock was not going to beg him to listen.

The nicotine pulsed in his veins and he lit another.It was cold and he didn’t care that his feet were getting numb. 

The exceptionally shiny car pulled up to the kerb.Sherlock rolled his eyes. The passenger window rolled down, Mycroft was smiling. “Lost something, brother mine?”

“Sanity is overrated.”

“Well, lucky for you, I happened along.It seems your companion has again successfully upheld his family traditions. I retrieved him for you.I suppose you are on child minder duty?I’ll get Hinton to pour him out of my car before he vomits.Can you manage him up the stairs?”

“Yes.Thank you.” Sherlock said, ashamed and more furious than ever.

John stayed in bed til almost noon.Bee was up and bright eyed at five. 

Sherlock took her down to Mrs. Hudson soon after John stumbled into the loo.Sherlock had not actually slept at all.He was angry. He knew better than to speak to John when he was angry. He’d never really been this cross with his doctor before. 

He’d been annoyed and hurt, but never angry enough to take a chance of losing John.He’d always accepted and always forgiven at once, going out of his way to see their friendship repaired, unconditionally.

John was sat in the kitchen, looking haggard and miserable.Sherlock hoped he felt as bad as he smelled.Sherlock helped himself to coffee from the pot and went to take a hot bath.He soaked until the water was uncomfortably cool. He spent time shaving and fussing with his hair.Somehow looking his best had always been his best armour.He dressed carefully and emerged with his mask of arrogant indifference, so ingrained from his public school days, firmly glued in place.

John watched him from bleary eyes and a stubbornly closed expression. 

“You have until three to get yourself together, Mrs Hudson has an appointment at half three. I may not be back until tomorrow.” Sherlock informed John as he made a show of putting on his gloves and scarf. 

“Fine.” Was the only word John grumbled back.

“If, at some point you’d like to inquire—“

“No.I don’t want to hear your convoluted crap, Sherlock. All I want to know is that you intend to do the right thing.”

“Oh.And you already have made that decision, for me... and for her, as well? Because at some random moment you were elected Boss of the Greater London area.I’ll let Mycroft know.He’ll be so relieved.”

Sherlock stretched his neck and raised his chin, aloof and unwilling to show how John’s words were like acid in his heart. He made sure to whirl his coat as he exited the kitchen and headed down the seventeen steps as if on a mission.


	14. Ugly

Chapter 14

Ugly

They say you learn more about a person you love when it ends than you ever knew about them in the beginning. Sherlock hated it.They were snippy and snide and sarcastically polite. 

Sherlock found he himself to be petty and petulant simply because John had made up his mind and there was no further discussion. They were being intentionally ugly to each other and it felt like all they had gained was lost with interest.

All Sherlock wanted was for John to sit down and say, “Okay, I want to know.Explain it to me, Sherlock?”

He wanted John to give him the benefit of the doubt and instead he felt he was trying to charm a snake whose tail had recently been trodden upon.Worst of all, as the days past, Sherlock didn’t feel very inclined to be charming.

Whilst John was at work, Sherlock borrowed his computer as was his norm. His search history showed that the doctor had spent the last few days browsing flats to let. Sherlock picked up his phone dashing off a text demanding to know what the hell John was thinking but ended up not sending it.He knew.It was obvious.John was leaving. 

Would he bother to discuss it, or was his mind made up?Sherlock’s heart pounded in fury as he slammed the laptop shut.

John was working late, so it was up to Sherlock to retrieve Rosie from the child minder. He took her in the push chair through Regent’s Park, wanting to savour his time with her, abjectly fearing that it was about to end. He thought of her as his daughter. John had allowed that.He’d encouraged it and now he was planning to take it away, without a word. 

There was nothing Sherlock could do.He had no actual standing as her Godfather.It was just honorary at best. He expected that John would allow him to see her from time to time, but it would all change. This closeness of day to day living would evaporate and he be relegated to the role of eccentric Uncle at best and an obligation at holidays most likely.

They tarried at the boating lake far past dinner time.But, she was having a delightful time toddling after the ducks and he couldn’t bear to imagine this might be their last adventure together, so he dilly dallied until it was past dark before gathering her up and starting for home.Worn out, she was asleep before they turned the corner to Baker Street.

He woke her and tried to interest her in a bit of dinner, but she was nodding off and beginning to fuss so he took her upstairs and rocked her long past her dropping off, tears streaming down his face as he contemplated a life with her and John absent. She slept peacefully in his arms as he ugly cried.

It broke his heart.

Sherlock was waiting for John as he entered the flat.His voice rumbled in a contra-base register as his vowels gave away his time at Harrow. “Do you hate the concept of my child so much you refuse to remain in the same post code?”

John didn’t answer immediately.He removed his coat and hung it on the peg, His shoulders were hunched in exhaustion as he fell into his chair and sighed.


	15. Argument

Chapter 15

Argument

“Do we have to do this now?” John leaned on his arm, rubbing his eyes and displaying all the signs of a headache.

“Or... we could go with your plan to surprise me when you suddenly move house?I could be wrong, but the distance might make a conversation a bit of a dead end.”

“I’m just looking at options. Once you are married, I don’t—“

“Married?Are you insane?I’m not getting married!”

“Mmmhhhph. So, you are going to hang the moniker of bastard on your child?I think not.” John leaned forward and smiled his warning smile.

“Have you looked outside?There are no handsome cabs or horse dropping in the streets?That’s because we are not living in an Edwardian melodrama in which anyone cares! They won’t be denied jobs on the basis of their parents observance or lack there of, of a tedious ritual meant to drape women in the institution of chattel and dowry! How do you even conceive such outdated rubbish?”

“It still matters, Sherlock.”

“No, it doesn’t.So let me get this straight, you intend to uproot Rosie for the second time this year, based solely on this ancient chicanery that I must get married to someone other than you, to save my future child from the shame of two loving parents who happened to not wish to play house?On that basis alone, you have thrown us away without so much as a conversation?”

“I want what is best for everyone. You can’t take it back—“

“I have no intention of it!”

“And?I can’t... I just can’t, be here...any more?”

“I didn’t cheat on you, John!She asked me—“

“No, but you said yes, didn’t you?That’s who you were seeing!I was here and you were ... with her!”

“We were not together!You were the one who insisted, who said all of that nonsense about being a complete human and not too defective for the ever so straight Captain.I was madly in love with you for donkey years and you wanted nothing to do with me!Nothing!But now you want to hold your own ideas over my head as an excuse to walk out? Nothing I’ve ever done has been good enough, has it? Nooo, it’s all been for nothing.”

“I never told you to go out and get someone up the duff and abandon them!You should have used protection!For Christ’s sake, Sherlock, I gave you the damned condoms?Your a genius and she’s a doctor, surely one of you could have figured out the basic concept!”

“Oh you’re one to talk!The evidence of your own incompetence is asleep upstairs in her room!The shock on your faces at the wedding!” Sherlock stood and paced.

John rose too and pointed his finger as if Sherlock were a child. “And we were married!Humph?”

Sherlock spun to face John , hissing with cruelty, “But you didn’t want to be.You admitted it.You were miserable and that’s what you want for me?”

“You won’t understand until they are born.It’s different when they are your own,” John murmured looking at the floor. 

“I see,” Sherlock said with a clipped finality to his tone. His heart was pounding in his ears and his breath was coming hard. 

“Do you?” John glanced up, guilt on his face, but his eyes went immediately back to their spot on the floor. 

“Oh yes, you pretended I was part of Bee’s life and now you have the power to snatch her away and can justify it with, I’m not really her father. She isn’t my blood, so it doesn’t matter.Sherlock doesn’t feel things like that. You’re angry with me, and withdrawal of your affection isn’t going to be punishment enough, no.You have casually decided to weaponise her as well.”

“I’m not.You are not putting the blame on me.You didn’t consult me, didn’t bother with my advice and now... Now you have a child to consider in every aspect of your life!Your world has changed, Sherlock?You’re whole world has changed and you can’t even imagine how much, just yet.I would have never in my wildest dreams gone back to Mary after she shot you, but for Rosamund. I had to put aside what I wanted, because she deserved better. So does your child and for that matter, so does Molly!”

“She doesn’t want to marry me!” Sherlock roared!

John raised his chin and stood at parade rest.“Are you certain of that?”

“Yes!”

“Have you actually asked her?” John pounced, knowing the answer.


	16. Trinket

Chapter 16

Trinket

“Of course not. “

John nodded and took a deep breath and held it for just a second before speaking.“Well, you’re going to.”

“No I’m not.”

John left the room and returned with a tiny grey box in his hand.He thrust it towards Sherlock who recoiled in indignation.“That’s Mary’s ring!”

John flipped the box open and nodded.“It is.And I’m giving it to you, to give to Molly.Because you let Janine keep the one you bought to fake propose to her. So, you’ll be needing one and I think Mary would like it, and I know Molly will understand the sentiment behind it.”

“And that is?” Sherlock demanded, still horrified. 

“My blessing.So we can all, at some point move on and maybe... someday, be...friends.” John swallowed and held the box back out.“At least I hope so.”

“And if I refuse?”

John licked his lips and smiled sadly, his upper teeth just nipping his bottom lip. “Then I will never see you as the man I thought I knew. Nothing in this world is going to prepare you for how you’re going to feel when you hold them the first time.And if you don’t have that in you, then maybe my blog was closer to the truth than either of us realized. Look, this is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.It is.But it’s the right thing.Please, take it.”

Sherlock hesitantly took the box. “And if I do this and she says no?What then?”

“You have manipulated her into lying to the entire world for two years, giving you human remains to play with and having a shag.If she says no, it’s because you didn’t try very hard.Do better. Sherlock, she’s not going to say no.I almost wish she would, but that’s not how life works. Not for me.Now, off you pop.”

“What do you mean? Now?”

“No time like the present.You know she’s up.She reads til all hours, most nights.”

“Not the most romantic proposal, just showing up on a whim, because my former boyfriend insisted.”

The comment hit John right in the gut, as Sherlock intended.He rallied with, “You lost the luxury of playing at romance.Down to practicalities now, love.”

“Fine.If that’s what you want. But, just know, you’re an idiot.” Sherlock said with pure fury raging again.

John blinked slowly and tipped his head to the side in acknowledgment.“There’s no doubt in my mind that you are correct.”

“If only you’d listen.None of this is what you think.I promise you.”

“You won’t change my mind on this, Sherlock.I’ll always care about you. But, this is... the right thing.You do see that, don’t you?”

“Not for us.”

“Maybe we just weren’t meant to be.The timing is always bad.We just can’t seem to be in sync.”John’s chin began to tremble.

“We have been.I thought?” Sherlock pleaded gently.

“Yeah.” John said with regret, but continued with resolve. “But now.Just do this, for me, if for no other reason.”

“As you wish.But it won’t change anything .”

“We’ll see.” John sat back down in his chair and made a gesture for Sherlock to go. 


	17. Delusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock does his best.

Chapter 17

Delusion

Molly opened the doors and smiled for just a moment.Then she took in Sherlock’s face and asked with trepidation.“Oh, Sherlock.What’s happened?”

Sherlock looked at his feet and just shook his head. 

“Well, you’d better come in, then.What can I do?”

Sherlock entered, but he didn’t say much at first.He looked around the flat and realised that it was technically one of his bolt holes, because he felt safe here. She had atrocious collectible plates on the wall and cat fur on the sofa, yet he still felt peaceful here. It wasn’t a terrible flat.It had better light than Baker Street.

Molly set to making tea as he examined the Van Gogh print on her wall.He’d seen it a hundred times, but never contemplated why she’d chosen this one.“Wheatfield with crows... thought to be his last painting.Why this one and not one of his nightscapes?I’d think the blues and yellows would have appealed to you more.”

“I like those too.But this was his last. These are the things that were important to him in the end.I always consider what people think about just before they are sent to me.Some you can sort of tell.But most, don’t die of suicide.”

“A significant portion do, actually.”

“Too many,” Molly agreed.

“I don’t think he did.”

“Oh?”

Sherlock shifted his weight and accepted the cuppa she held out to him.“I’ve studied the case.I believe it was an accident.I think it was death by misadventure.Someone held that gun, and he didn’t want them to face the consequences.He was covering for them.”

“Molly looked up at her wall.“He was suicidal most of his life.They say this was his note.The birds symbolise the spirit finding freedom.”

“That’s the standard belief.But they are wrong.The birds are flying towards the storm. It is resolve, not sorrow.The painter was thinking of his future and how he could be better. When he was depressed, he painted himself or he didn’t paint at all.Creativity and depression don’t usually flow well together. If this was his last painting, then he was not depressed.”

“Interesting.” Molly said without commitment and studied Sherlock.“Who killed him, then?”

“The who doesn’t matter.The what does.Showing off is what killed him.He was terribly lonely and someone befriended him. He told everyone that he did it to himself to protect the person who accidentally fired his gun. He knew it would probably be fatal, and he protected them.”

“You aren’t just talking about him are you? Did you?” Molly asked softly.“That day?I always wondered.”

Sherlock took a deep breath and held it for a beat before answering.“The odds were not as encouraging as I led you to believe.The homeless network were amateurs, doing their best but untrained and I’d never done any stunt work.The outcome was far better than I’d anticipated.”

“Were you afraid?I was.”

“Of death? Not at all.I was terrified that I might survive but be... incapacitated.Damaged to a degree that I’d be trapped in broken transport with no escape.There is no closer place to the concept of hell that I could imagine.”

“Lots of people think that at first then go on to live productive lives, Sherlock.I mean if John were injured, would you care for him less?”

“What I could selfishly reconcile if it were John would put me round the twist if it were me.There’s a theme running in that statement.I’m incredibly selfish, as you probably know.Which transitions us to why I’ve come.” Sherlock sipped his tea and sat it on the coffee table before finally removing his coat and draping it over the back of the side chair. 

“Yes, I thought you might get around to that.Seems like old times with you just randomly popping over.”Molly hesitated then sat on the other end of the sofa where Sherlock had indicated.She sipped her tea and grasp it between her palms absorbing the heat from the ceramic mug as she tucked her feet underneath herself in her preferred comfortable position. “ So...”

Sherlock leaned forward and resting his elbows on his knees, shoved his thumbs into his eye sockets to massage away the migraine he was developing.“If you pushed away all the web of intricacies of our lives and focused only on the silken layers in this room right now, would you find it possible to find a measure of contentment in my company, given who you know me to be?”

Molly tilted her head slightly and her brows furrowed. “Of course, Sherlock.Don’t be silly.I like your company.Wouldn’t answer the door if it were otherwise.” She giggled nervously trying to comprehend where he was going with his question.

Sherlock gave her the tiniest of smiles for the kindness. “Tell me, Molly Hooper, if I were to ask you to marry me, what would you say?”

“I’d say no, of course.Be a bit of a shambles considering your absolutely mad about your very grumpy and territorial doctor.” Molly rolled her eyes and gave him a chummy kick on the thigh with her skippered foot. 

Sherlock bit his lip.He reached over to his coat and withdrew the small grey box.He opened it and looked at the contents for a long moment. “John isn’t in the room.All other distractions are unimportant at this moment.Nothing out in that world factor into it, just yet.Just the three of us, you, me and our child.In those simple terms, is there any combination of words or endeavour that would influence you to consider me husband material?”

“Why would I marry someone who is in love with someone else?Sherlock, what are you doing?”

“I am attempting to propose to you.Thought that should be fairly obvious...”

“No.I see that.The box you keep twiddling gave it away.I don’t understand in what delusional universe you conceived the notion that this was going to fly?Or maybe I’m saying it wrong... are you high?”

Sherlock laughed.He couldn’t help it. Molly’s response tickled him.He was sure she’d say no but there was a portion of his mind that kept reminding him that she’d once been quite infatuated and that there was still enough human error between them that he could end up betrothed.

“Actually quite the opposite.I’ve rarely been so down in my life and that’s rather ambitious, honestly.”

“I can see that.So what’s this all actually about, Sherlock.”

“We are having a child.I am formally asking the future mother of my offspring to consider being my wife.It is apparently the done thing and I am a cad not to remedy ‘born out of wedlock’ status of said offspring.”

“You’re not actually serious.”

“I am.I’ve brought a traditional trinket imbued with multiple layers of sentiment.” Sherlock flicked the box open again and sat it cautiously between them on the sofa.“Molly, you do know, I care for you. I have recently been made aware that fatherhood requires more than good intentions.I’m sincerely asking you if you want to be my wife?”

Molly studied him for a moment. She picked up the ring box and sighed. “I’ve seen this ring before.It was Mary’s, wasn’t it. Okay let’s start over.What am I missing?I believe you do mean it, but you don’t want it, not really. So start at the beginning.”

Sherlock melted a little and gave her a fond glance.“My clever girl.I don’t have a choice.John has decided to leave me.He insisted that I talk you into it.He wouldn’t listen.Not a word. His mind was made up as soon as he figured out that I had fathered a child. The problem with his actions is that I have also been made aware that my role as Rosie’s father is contingent solely upon his good will. It makes me quite aware that any relationship or affection I may have for this child, would be of equal fragility.People kick me out of their lives and I never understand and most often carry the impact far more than I allow anyone to see.But, hiding it, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.He seems to think that breaking my heart is of negligible consequence, and it’s perhaps beyond his ability to see that losing him is only of equal impact to losing what I had come to believe was a love of a lifetime for his daughter.”

“You will always be important to Rosie.Don’t be silly.She adores you,” Molly said sceptically. 

“Yes, well, knowing my name and seeing me once a month or so isn’t quite the same as being the person you crave when you have a scrapped knee or want to be rocked to sleep, is it?I will take whatever offered, of course, but no matter what, it will be a loss, for me at least.Bee has no memory of her mother. She would soon forget me as well.It isn’t outside the realm of possibility that you too might find yourself fed up with me, and simply toss me to the kerb with the rubbish. Marriage would at least insure, I’d be allowed some form of standing in his or her life.”

“I see.So if I marry you, then I have to let you hang around?” Molly clarified with humoured sarcasm.

“Yes.Probably the only hope I have of being invited to normal life events by the teen stage,” Sherlock fired back with self deprecation.

“Oh, Sherlock, you will always be welcome.”

“I was under that delusion already, and have just been disavowed of the notion that promises are more than a momentary lark.”

“Well, I won’t insult you with an instant no, but I think we should take our time sorting this before we make any long lasting decisions.I had no interest in trapping you into anything.Still don’t.There are some practical sides to the idea. Since you came back, you aren’t quite as suited to being alone.If John actually plans to bunk off on you, it wouldn’t be terrible. It also isn’t remotely necessary.I picked you.I’m not changing my mind about it. Now, you look exhausted.I’m too tired to even think, so sofa or my room?”

Molly would keep his secret.She’d never tell a soul that they’d spent the night in the same bed or that Sherlock had clung to her as his mostly silent tears had dampened her shoulder. She would never reveal that she’d soothed him just as she’d done when he’d cried in her arms after the fall. This time however, she was going to have a talk with John Watson. He would listen to her, because his bad arse Captain side had only glimpsed her daughter of an Old Salt side.


	18. Property

Chapter 18

Property

an attribute, quality, or characteristic of something.

Molly left her flat early, leaving a Consulting Detective twisted in all the blankets like a farting burrito.At least he didn’t snore, the bloody cover hog. 

Molly waited in the exam room having no intention of donning the paper gown, because her mission was quite different. 

Doctor Watson entered the exam room with a tired but friendly bravado that turned to confusion as soon as he saw her.He stopped short, consulted his chart again and looked back at her, mouth agape before licking his lips and gasping, “Oh, sorry.Sorry.You must be here for Doctor Patel?Unless you are here for...ummmm.What?Possible Atrial Fibrillation?”John was at once full of concern and pulled his stethoscope from around his neck to hear her heart.

“No.I don’t have that.No worries, John. It was A Fib to get in to see you immediately. Privately. Because you can’t tell anyone what I’m about to say.Doctor patient privileges and—“

“Look, Molly.I know.Okay?You don’t have to say a word and I assure you that I intend to step aside.You said yes then?”

“You’ve been around him so much and that’s your deduction?”

“Look, I know it will be a bit awkward at first, but I think eventually—“

“Stop it!Just stop!No wonder he can’t talk to you.He said you wouldn’t listen.I thought he didn’t try very hard, but look at you.Sit. Now. And not another word!” Molly commanded, finger pointing to the rolling exam stool.

John’s brows furrowed with anger and an impatient sigh, but he complied.“Okay?I’m listening?” He crossed his arms and his left knee bounced in irritation.

“Thanks.Now, I’m going to preface this with the sentence that if you leave him, I will marry him, just to keep him out of trouble that you destroying him will cause.Which is a really sad reason to marry someone.My next statement is How Dare You!You presumptuous dick!”

John’s mouth hung open in pure shock. 

“I am a grown woman and I made the decision that I wanted a child.I looked at dozens of options and all of them had downsides or were incredibly expensive or both.But, I decided to figure it out.I had files of donor profiles and they all sounded like spotty teens with a lot of brag and probably bad teeth.Then Sherlock walked in and on a lark I imagined his genetics and I liked the idea.He’s fantastic with Rosie, better than you, if truth be told, and he’s passionate and smart and intelligent and the most kind man I know!”

“You think Sherlock is kind? Well that’s—“ John scoffed, but was silenced with her index finger and a glare.

“You should know that he is, by now. If you don’t, you don’t deserve him.So, I made the suggestion and laid out all the reasons why and to my shock he agreed.So again we looked at all the medical interventions and decided that the expenses could be better invested to put the bun through Uni someday, when the old fashioned form of conception was both easy and free.We did not cheat on you, nor were either of us aware you were even an option for him at that time!This was my choice, got it? How dare you hurt him over my wanting a child before it becomes high risk.”

John closed his mouth finally but he was not quite there yet with his mistake. “But, nevertheless he.. “

“No.Are you saying that if I’d have given in to you when you tried to get a leg over, that if I’d fallen pregnant that you’d have dropped him like a potato and demanded we sail off into the sunset as a couple?”

John leaned forward and smiled, “I would have, yes!” As if daring her to contradict him. 

“I would have said for you to Sod Off.Because let me assure you, I think you are an utter narcissistic bastard on a good day and probably capable of anything on a bad one.You are mad as a box of frogs, you can’t hold down a steady job for more than a few months, you make decisions for everyone around you as if you own them, then play the put upon martyr when you don’t get your way!It’s revolting.And don’t for one second think I don’t know that you are more than a bit of a lad, as well.I have no earthly idea what Sherlock even sees in you, but he sees something.And that... that is his entire bloody world, just to be clear. So how dare you discard him like a bit of posh on the side and order him to make an honest woman of poor little Molly Hooper!You know, I considered saying yes and announcing it to the world, just to make you suffer the way you made him suffer when he finally came home after all he’d been through to keep you safe.Yes, we all know you fell apart and it was utterly horrible, but did you ever consider that if he’d given up like you did, that you’d never have known?”

John’s face radiated fury now. “Don’t?” He warned.

“I’m sure there are things you don’t want to know.It’s not even an insult, because it’s one of the properties of your personality that I hate the most.Ignore it, bury it and run away because facing things is only okay for you with a gun or a fist?You’ve seen his scars.You know what they mean.Did you know he was stabbed in the Ukraine and the only reason he didn’t bleed to death was because he packed it with snow and nearly died of hypothermia instead?He trekked forty kilometres and it took him six days before he could find help.Did you know that?”

Tears filled John’s eyes and defeat replaced his anger, “No.”

Molly softened slightly.“All we have heard about since he came back is that You were betrayed and you didn’t get to know he was alive, and most often when you were really in your cups you lamented how you blamed yourself for his death.That was terrible, I know, but there were no better options, because I knew, and not only did I have to lie to everyone... watch you fall apart, worry about your sanity, but I also knew that every day he was gone he might be out there, that moment, needing help, that I couldn’t give.Every moment.Imagine, John.If we’d told you.First you’d have insisted on getting to him, and second, imagine that week when he really was lost to us, and we thought he was dead... and that was just the first time.You lost him once.I lost him over and over.I’d given up by the time Mycroft waded in and rescued him in the end.”

“I didn’t think about it like that. What do you mean, Mycroft?”

“He was captured in Serbia.Mycroft went undercover. Mycroft had no idea if it was an actual rescue mission or just a recovery. He came home and barely managed a shave and a haircut before dashing off to reunite with his dearest friend. I changed his bandages after he interrupted your date.”

“Jesus. I didn’t know.”One tear escaped his eye and he quickly swiped at it with his sleeve.

“You see, but...”

“I don’t observe.Got it.So...”

“Are you still leaving him?”

“Perhaps he’d be better off in the long run.But, no.If he’ll have me.” John rubbed his face with his sleeve. 

“In that case, you’ll probably be needing this back.”Molly removed the little box from her purse and handed it to John.“It was a lovely gesture.It truly was, but it should go to Rosamund someday.”

John held it and nodded.

“I don’t think you’re all bad.If you make him happy and treat his child half as well he does yours, then eventually, I will have to reassess my opinion. You should take him on holiday, you know?Someplace nice, to celebrate that you finally got it all figured out.It will give you time to listen, him being away from all the chaos.”

“Chaos follows him.” John said with a shrug.

“Then pick it wisely and stop making it where it doesn’t need to be.This was just you making pants of a situation that could have been fixed with almost no effort at all.There’s a painting of crows at my flat.They are flying into the storm.I always thought they were leaving, to die, but Sherlock,he says they aren’t.He’s like that.He flies into the storm, because he knows the future and he meets it on his own terms.Once you see it, it’s hard to unsee it.Just remember that about him and don’t make him be alone?”

John was shaking, trying not to break down at this point.He only managed a nod.

“Great Doctor.You seem to have cured my AFib right up.Cheers”. Molly exited the room with a small grin. 


	19. Greece

Chapter 19

Greece

John waited in his chair. He’d waffled between things he needed to say to Sherlock.Sherlock was right, he hadn’t listened. He’d literally forced Sherlock out the door because he hadn’t trusted him even enough to allow him to explain.Every time he’d tried, John had shut him down and then he was just atrocious to him about something Sherlock hadn’t done.

John knew he was a jealous man, at least when it came to Sherlock.He had no clue how to deal with it, because he’d never actually felt it before.Oh a twinge here and there, certainly, but Mary spent a good six months ringing up David and crying on his shoulder about her mean husband and he couldn’t be arsed to care.

But, Sherlock? He’d lost his bloody mind thinking he’d been a fool. How could he make that up?

It wasn’t even the first time.The woman had driven him round the twist. Then Janine... as a supposedly happily married man, his heart had stopped when Sherlock had proposed.He couldn’t even watch them kiss without wanting to shove her away from him. He’d been a mean little toad at the hospital, very directly breaking up with her whilst Sherlock himself was dying on the table.

Molly sees right through his facades too.She pissed him off today, whilst handing him back his sanity and his life.God, he’d been a miserable shit, to everyone.Molly wasn’t wrong.

But, Sherlock had lied and it was obviously going to be a trigger for the rest of their lives.His baggage, so to speak.John stirred the fire. Rosy was having a sleepover with Agatha’s daughter.They played together every day at the nursery. He’d begged, truthfully.

He heard Sherlock’s tired tread on the stairs and busied himself with fussing about with the fire. He knew Sherlock loved to watch his face in the firelight. Sherlock hesitated in the doorway, hang dog and defeated. 

John turned and gave him a bit of a shy smile.“Hi?”

“I wish, but sadly, no.Not yet anyway.”

“Not funny.”

Sherlock hung his coat and scarf and flopped into his chair. “Wasn’t trying to be funny.”

“So... how did it go?”

“She didn’t say no.She kept the ring.She’s thinking about it.”

John rose and poured Sherlock a drink from the bottle on his side table and handed it to him.Sherlock accepted it without really looking at John.John stood for a moment.

“So, how are we feeling about that?”

Sherlock pulled a tube from his shirt pocket and sucked on it hard, producing a cloud of vapour on the exhale. The device lit his face in blue.“I suppose I’ll be needing a best man.”

“Oh... well, I’d be—“

“Thinking of asking Lestrade.” Sherlock interjected. 

John snorted.“Are you now?”

“On the slight chance it were to be, It won’t be a spectacle like yours was.Molly is far too practical.Besides she has no family and I have no friends, so probably skip the circus.However, there’s no need for you to go anywhere.I’ll move to hers.At least don’t make Bee move again, she’s just got used to this place.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it all sorted?”

Sherlock slouched further into his chair and took a swallow of the whiskey.“She hasn’t said yes.Mycroft has offered me an assignment.If she turns me down, I’m taking it.”

“Why?Why would you do that?”

“I don’t know.Just putting the universe to rights.” Sherlock leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

John circled the rim of his glass with his fingers.“What about me?”

“Oh, right, because if she doesn’t want me, you and I can just carry on as we were?Is that your plan?”

“I don’t understand?” John said carefully.

“No, it was I who didn’t understand.But, I’ve solved the great mystery of emotional attachment and far from completing me, it has destroyed me. The main theme seems to be disposability at some random point and I wish to revoke my membership to the club.I have calculated a ninety-three percentage of probably that she will decline my offer, going to ninety-five in three hours, and I have set my personal limit of two rejections within a forty-eight hour period.Thank you.”

“But, you’re going to be a father?You can’t just walk away?”

“I was a father, and I didn’t walk away.I was discarded.Without a second thought.I’m not attached to this one yet.I will marry her, if she so chooses, but I won’t be emotionally invested with no ability to have any sort of opinion should another person tire of me, which has been a one hundred percent data point thus far.So, having realised the mistake I made attempting to reclaim a life I no longer have space to inhabit, I will choose one in which I at least have utility.”

John sighed and reached in his pocket, producing the ring.“Molly came to see me.She... explained?I’m so sorry, Sherlock.”

Sherlock looked from the box to John’s face then away.He picked up his phone and began texting.

“What are you doing?”

“Informing Mycroft that my flight to Greece is a go.”

“What? No! Sherlock, we need to talk.”

Sherlock looked up, face both blank and incredulous.“We don’t talk, John.I do things and then you say things about it.Mostly, how my actions affect you.How angry you are at me.I thought we’d done something important. But it was only good enough to weather one misstep you imagined on my part to prove that we no longer have what I imagined. I can’t survive it any longer.I’ve reconciled my life without you and Rosamund. It’s bleak, but not as dire as contemplating settling in to be your family, knowing that you might again simply wash your hands of me because you will not hear my side.You listen to everyone but me.You accepted Molly’s explanation, but cut me off each time I tried.You’ve hated me for everything from surviving the most horrific experiences of my life, to save yours to the death of your wife and the latest thing was that I gave a person I care about the opportunity to do something she was born to do.Life is messy, John, and you are gliding through it demanding military spic and span.”

“I was so wrong, Sherlock.I was so jealous that I ... just...”

“In my professional experience, sentiment can take so many ugly forms.Now that my mind is out of oxytocin’s haze, I think I will refrain from wading back in.”

“Please.Look, I have been horrible, I know.Give me a chance, to make it up to you?”

“How?”

“I need time.Just some time.”

Sherlock shook his head.“Flight’s already booked.”

“Then book two?I’m coming.Maybe I can change your mind?If not, it’s one last hoorah?”

“You hate Greek food.”

“But I love you and needs must...”

Sherlock looked at his phone and sighed.“Fine. Just so you know, this is work, not a sex holiday.”

“Could be both.”

“No...”

“Course not.” John smiled his disarming harmless closed lip smile, but his eyes twinkled with other plans. 


	20. Heels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dear lord, why do I do this to myself. I’ve gone a very different route to what one would expect with the chapter title. I’m behind, but knew this was going to be a slog. And then, I get barmy researching boats. Thank you for hanging in there and your comments mean the world to me.

Chapter 20

Heels

Heel: a tilt (as of a boat) to one side

also : the extent of such a tilt

—a heel of six degrees to starboard.

It hadn’t been easy, getting on this plane, at least not for John.Coordinating child minders had bogged him down until Sherlock took charge and called his mother.She’d popped down within hours of the call and had things organised and ship shape within the time it took John to pack. 

He did have a moments hesitation when he’d caught Sherlock giving her a verbal bullet point list of things she was not allowed to do with Rosie. The part he’d heard included: no visits to prospective schools, no psychiatric evaluations, no excessive sugar and absolutely no teaching her advanced mathematics!

John started to object about the maths, but a look from Sherlock convinced him, he best defer to the Detective’s opinion.Mrs Holmes was all smiles and kindness and John assumed that if she could keep Sherlock alive to adulthood, that a few days with Rosie would probably be fine.

Private jets were not something John anticipated, but he did make use of the privacy and boredom.He led in asking about the case.Sherlock explained in detail that they were on the trail of corruption, which frankly was the normal mode of business for Greece, but that this particular former public official had been targeted and nearly murdered for attempting to prove a certain company had gone well beyond the average to sway advantage for money laundering.Sherlock was not only there to solve the attempted murder, but to seek the path to prosecute the corporate villains.It sounded dangerous and John’s pulse had bounced with adrenaline, just thinking of the fun ahead. 

He’d also asked about Sherlock’s time away.Sherlock had scoffed at first, but John had drawn him out with regrets that if he didn’t hear it now and they separated, that he’d never hear the stories.Some of the stories made him feel jealous at the danger and that he’d not witnessed Sherlock’s clever antics, whilst others made him angry that Sherlock had been alone.Mostly though, he felt guilt about his past dismissal of the trauma that his friend had endured. The scars became places and acts of love to John for the first time.He wanted more than anything to have his Detective naked to worship every imperfection as the gift it symbolised. 

John understood for the first time, that the concept of coming home, to him mostly, had been the deciding motivation to keep fighting when all had seemed lost.

How could he not have seen it all before?There were places that John could never think of again, without associating them with a near death experience for Sherlock.The Ukraine was the first, but there was a snake bite in Texas, a gunshot in Columbia, a fall in Paris, a poisoning in Taiwan,a case of salmonella in Africa, and a mudslide in Nepal, along with his final capture in Serbia, any one of which, John would have never learned of, had Sherlock not returned.Mycroft had been under strictest orders to let his memory be and never tell John he’d survived the fall, only to disappear without a trace.He’d thought it to be a kindness.In truth, it probably was.John was sure he would have gone mad if he’d known what Sherlock was facing on a day to day basis. 

If he didn’t win him over, that was exactly what John’s future held.One day, Sherlock would not turn up and he’d never know. Molly had made the point, and John didn’t honestly think he could survive it. 

“What?I’ve upset you again.” Sherlock sighed and looked away, his face closing off.

John swallowed.“I don’t know how to ... if you disappear... captured, killed.I’ll never know.I’ll suspect.One day I will realise it’s been too long. But, I’ll keep hoping, you know?I’ll keep hoping and, when would it end? Molly survived it.I don’t know how I will.” John chewed his thumbnail and blinked rapidly as he stared out the window.

“I’m sure Mycroft would advise you of any information he had.You’ll move on.You always do.”

“Not true.I run away.I put a wall behind me and I don’t look at it, because I’m pants at it.Molly’s right, I’m only able to face things with a gun or a fist.Or, retreat.Which is why we are here right now.Isn’t it?You think I discarded you, but I was just running from what I thought was the situation.I thought it had caught up with me.That magical thinking, I fear happiness.For me it’s always just a brief respite from tragedy.Only this time, I brought it on myself.”

The turbulence silenced them when a significant altitude loss made their stomachs flutter.Lighting snapped out the starboard windows and John took a calming breath, obviously letting his doctorly imagination play havoc on the statistical death experience of plane crash victims.

“John.It’s just a storm.We have an experienced pilot and this has all the latest, top of the line doodads.Ten times more safe than commercial. I never knew you were afraid of flying?”

“Not afraid of flying. Afraid of falling out of the sky over water. Drowning in a metal tube I can’t escape.Hate drowning.It takes a really long time and it hurts. The only thing worse is fire.So plane crashing because it’s on fire, into water... yeah.” John said in a rush, his breath now coming hard.

Sherlock snickered. 

John kicked his shin across the isle.

“We aren’t crashing, John.We’re landing.”

Eighteen hours later they were tacking southward on a stolen 23 foot sail boat, chasing some Gucci arse yacht under full sail, but whose engines had failed.They had no navigation and there was a huge storm rolling towards them. 

Sherlock was bouncing all over the boat as if he’d been born on the sea and the much faster Bermuda rigged sloop was gaining on the bigger boat.But John, well he was just trying to hold on and stay out of the way.He didn’t like boats, had never been on one, and bouncing three foot in the air in the choppy water on slick, wet, lurching decking was not his idea of a grand time. 

There was a Greek lad, who spoke no English helping Sherlock but John felt like a barnacle. 

The boat kept tilting and John could barely stand up as it was.He had no sea legs whatsoever. When the sloop heeled, it was like standing on a waterfall, with a rollercoaster for footing.

Sherlock and the boy barely seemed to take notice, but for John, the heels were random and utterly disconcerting. 

They were doing what Sherlock called tacking and effectively sailing into the wind following the lights of the bigger boat when the swells allowed it to be in view.John was wet, terrified and felt completely useless. Lightning danced and John couldn’t help but vary between thinking he was going to be swept overboard and drown, the boat was going to fall over entirely and he’d be drowned or the mast was going to be struck by lightning and he was going to fry internally... as he drowned. 

“Ready about!” Sherlock called.

“Ready!” The boy cried.

“Coming about!” Sherlock yelled.

John looked up at Sherlock as he tried to make his way across to the other side of the boat.But just as Sherlock called “Vatican Cameos!” John tried to react, ducking as soon as he understood what the call meant.But, the wind changed and the boom slammed across the deck, just as the boat heeled deep and gave up entirely. 

John had ducked, but not enough and he heard a canon just before the pain split his mind and he screamed as he was knocked down and tumbled right on into the water.“Oh God no!” He thought, “Not salt water.” But everything was grey bubbles and instant pain as his mind registered he’d gasp underneath the water and his abdomen was spasming, trying to expel it, vomiting as he screamed, and Mary was a mermaid, with horrendous sharp teeth and going to drag him to the bottom.

There were split seconds of foggy memory. 

Sherlock begging him to do something. 

Shouting.

Cold. 

Sickness burning his sinuses. 

Sherlock fighting a mermaid.

A pink sky as Sherlock kissed him then slapped him, then beat on his chest.

Voices in a language he’d not heard before, but recognition of the baritone and seeking to stay with it. 

The first thing he actually felt completely aware of was trying to roll as he dry heaved and the resulting coughing causingthe back of his neck to feel as if a TERRY was after his head with a very dull K-BAR.

The next thing he saw was a seagull alighting next to his head to see if he’d sicked up anything tasty.The beady eye, disappointed by his offerings, turned to give him a sharp painful peck to see if he might make a good meal.He was too weak to fight him and suddenly six of his buddies decided to try it on as well.That was, until a mad man with a stick screeched like a banshee and made them cricket balls.

One of the birds, mortally wounded, flopped on the pebbled beach and cried it’s last time.A shadow filled the space where John laid and he flexed his fingers in greeting, in too much pain to do more than that.

“John.Keep breathing!Alexandro has gone for help.Just a few hours more.”


	21. Sigh

Chapter 21 Sigh

John slowly crawled inch by inch a few heartbeats away from death.Sherlock guarded him with his stick from the aggressive and stubborn seagulls.They were not giving up, despite their comrades death, they eventually just made a snack of their former mate, whilst waiting for the John Watson feast.

Sherlock had positioned himself behind John, acting as prop, pillow and body guard, whilst providing warmth and grounding him with massaging his extremities and speaking reassurances into John’s ear. 

John’s head swam and his vision was sandy.His head screamed and his eyes burned as he shivered and his throat felt like salted road rash. 

“Thirsty.” He finally managed.

Sherlock sighed.“Thank, God.I was sure you were going to be a bloody garden gnome.”

“Bird food.They tried to eat me.Thank you.Need my eyes for doctoring.” John just managed.

“How’s your head?”

“Need immediate amputation.”

“Yeah, bit of a lump, Well, if K2 could be called a lump.I don’t want to move you any more than I have to, but your lungs are sounding wet.Keep you elevated a bit so you can breath.”

“Ta.Where are we?”

“An uninhabited island in the Cyclades.”

“Wha’ happened?”

“We were tacking to starboard, coming around.The squall hit, we heeled more than thirty degrees, the boom clipped you. You went overboard, we experienced a full knock down.Of course the keel is weighted and she righted herself, as she’s meant to, but the foresail rigging snapped under the weight of the water, trapping you under it.She was already swamped, and you had no time for me to do more than grab a knife and jump in to cut you out of the tangle.I thought you were dead. The boy helped.We clung to the side but it wasn’t long before we ran aground.The boy had a torch and we followed the sand bar to higher ground, dragging you. Weathered the storm under the piece of sail we were obliged to bring with us.Performed CPR on you, with the full fury of the storm upon us. Tried to keep you warm.The storm passed.The sun came up. You were alive but unresponsive.When it got light, Alexandro swam back to the boat and retrieved the inflatable lifeboat.He’s paddling for civilisation, thinks he knows where we are.You can see the other island from here.There’s a light house to the east.He says it’s unmanned, but he knows of it. He seemed to know what he was talking about.I told him how to contact Mycroft.I hope he understood.Be faster, if he can manage that. But either way, he’ll get us help as soon as he can.We just have to hang on.”

“The bad guys?” John asked being conservative with his words. 

“Don’t know.Alexandro said there are terrible shoals out there.He said they probably went down.There was a flare in the sky off to the south and west.I imagine they were hit as well.Unpredictable wind in these winter storms down here. Only the most experienced sailors dare winter in the Greek islands.During the summer, the weather is fair and mild, but winter is a far different matter.I shouldn’t have chanced it.I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.Could I have some water?”

“There is none.I looked.The sloop was not stocked.Docked for winter.Water, water everywhere, but not a drop to drink.” 

“Bring me salt water. Sand in my mouth. Just to rinse.I won’t drink it.”

They passed the day talking about things that were inconsequential, carefully avoiding anything that might lead round to their future.They spoke of Sally Donovan’s reaction to Sherlock’s return.Of course she’d made DI and was now head of an (ICE) Internet Child Exploitation Unit and she was turning into a bulldog in the field.It suited her better and she was said to be a rising star.

They laughed about cases and clients and Mrs. Hudson’s love life.Stupid army poems, and off coloured sea chanties Sherlock knew had them giggling. 

The day wore on and John felt worse by the hour.Finally, as the sun hung low, he brought up something that was weighing on him.“Look, Sherlock.I know we’ve had our differences, and it’s my fault, but if help doesn’t get here in time, I just want you to—“

“It will.I promise you,” Sherlock interrupted.

John let out a deep sigh.“Rosie.I won’t last the night.You have to take her.Promise me that.”

“No.If I do, you’ll give up.Don’t you dare. When we get back, we’ll talk, but not now.”

John shifted his head slightly, to better see Sherlock.“You can feel a chair with your hand and know when it was last sat in.My guess is I’m in the 33 degree range now.Yes?”

Sherlock nodded.

“My core temperature is steadily falling.My blood pressure is dropping.Look at my fingernails.Pupils dilated?Yes?I’m tired.Fighting it, but... you did your best.I’m not giving up, but there’s nothing to burn on this bit of rock, and a few more degrees when that sun sets, there’s nothing much you can do that you haven’t already done.We may both die, frankly. But the wind and the ground and the damp is slowly leaching heat.It won’t hurt. The worst is over.I’ll just fall asleep and then sometime in the night, my heart will stop. What I need you to do, is not sit here holding me, once I fall asleep.Okay?I want you to get up and move around.I can’t, but you can.Exercise will keep you warm a long time.That’s why you made it in the Ukraine. If you’d stopped, then you’d have died.”

“John, please...”

They were quiet as the darkness crept across the horizon.The sunset was filled with reds and yellows and pinks. 

“Tell me you love me.Even if it’s a lie.Tell me that we’ll go home, and live happily ever after.”

“Of course we are going home. Stop being an idiot.Is this your plan to win me back?Guilt and melodrama?”

John laughed, a choked pathetic hiss, but his tired eyes twinkled and he answered, voice slurred just a bit, “No, I’d planned to whoo you with a sex holiday.Three-continents- Watson.I was never the tallest most dashing bloke like you, but I was once, very charming.Shag you into giving me another chance.”

“You are a genius at shagging.Could work. Stick around and find out.”

“God, how I love you.It’s not so bad, you know? I got you all to myself for a whole day and had your undivided attention.Going to be the last thing I see.It’s all fine.I’m so.. so sorry.I wanted...” with a great sigh, John’s eyes closed.

Sherlock did everything he could to rouse John, but nothing worked.John’s eyes were not even fully closed.He wasn’t asleep, he was unconscious.

Sherlock tilted his head back and screamed.He rocked John and kissed him and begged him, then screamed again.His heart pounded with unspent adrenaline and he almost missed the sound of drums in the distance.Only it wasn’t drums.It was blades and they belonged to a helicopter.

He flicked on the torch and scrambled to his knees, a limp Doctor in tow as he frantically waved the torch, hoping to draw their attention.They immediately banked and headed toward them and Sherlock took a heaving emotional sigh of relief.Several in fact.


	22. Texture

Chapter 22

Texture

They had been rescued by the Hellenic Coast Guard. John had begun stirring before they landed at the Hellenic Army Hospital. They were not taken to a civilian facility, due to Mycroft’s influence, most likely.But, John was rallying and alert. X-rays and CT scans discovered he had a simple linear basilar fracture with no intervention advised, but he’d need to be monitored for several months.His broken ribs on the other hand did require surgical stabilisation which John was not happy about, because the titanium plates left ugly scars. He complained that he was going to look like werewolf fodder. He discussed his case with the surgeon and they decided to intervene on only three, which amounted to the ones causing the most problems.The ones not scraping his lung, he demanded they leave alone.His head trauma made surgery high risk and John met with the anaesthetist as well. They would not be going home for a bit.

Once he was through the procedures, they’d have to take the trains back to London.Sherlock had asked why and John had snapped, “Because I don’t want to have a seizure on the bloody plane and have to have these damned plates put back after they come flying out my chest!”

“I don’t think they can actually—“

“Sherlock? We will take the train?Hmmph?” John ordered and cautioned in his clipped military, direct order voice. 

Sherlock was still confused.“It will take days to do it that way, but as you wish.Mummy is having a grand time.She’s taken Rosamund to the country.She can’t stand London for an extended period.She didn’t think you’d mind.”

“You tell your mother that I think she is a Saint. And that she may give her maths lessons if she likes.She’s barely two, can’t do much harm.”

“You will regret it.You’ve no idea how creepy other children and teachers find a five year old doing algebra and geometry.They will advance her.She will be younger than everyone and easily bullied.” Sherlock explained firmly. 

John’s eyes twinkled.“I was always the runt.Trust me, she’s our daughter and nobody will be able to bully her.In this day and age, we should actually look into some form of insurance against law suits... for when her temper flares and she wallops any little bastard that dares cross her. “

Sherlock shrugged in agreement, “And for us as well, because I’ll go after the parents for raising a mean brat.”

Laughing hurt John’s ribs.

There is a texture to train travel that you can’t experience dashing about on a plane. The sounds are more soothing and the gentle rocking a lullaby to conversation.They took each leg as a separate journey, staying in each city along the way. 

It was six hours from Athens to Thessaloniki. John was tired upon arrival but they had an early dinner and stayed the night.The next day they rambled about taking in the White Tower and the Arch Of Galerius. John was slow and careful in his movements, but Sherlock didn’t mind.He didn’t lose track of his gratitude that John was with him at all.The fresh air made John cough a lot, but though it hurt, it also ensured that he would not develop post surgical pneumonia.The city was both modern and yet filled with ancient places like the Viatadon Monastery.They took in the Byzantium culture Museum and the Archeological Museum before John had to call it a day. 

They returned to their hotel and had dinner in.They slept in the same bed, facing each other and holding hands.He awoke to John leaning over him, watching him sleep. 

“Your the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in this light.The sunrise was like gold touching your skin.I’ll never forget it.” John murmured low and seductively.He then kissed Sherlock, and Sherlock couldn’t help his longing to kiss John back. 

They boarded a sleeping train to Bucharest, an eighteen hour journey that left John sore and disheartened upon arrival. They rested the next day, but the night found John speaking softly in the dark early morning hours.He knew Sherlock was awake as soon as John tried to find a more comfortable position and groaned in pain. 

“I’ll get your pills.” Sherlock offered and did without turning on the light.He returned to bed and offered himself as a pillow.John draped his arm on Sherlock’s chest, his hands roaming gently and without agenda.It was pleasant and calming to Sherlock, making him drowsy and soft. 

“I don’t think I was ever really, really in love before.I have loved.Don’t misunderstand me.But the texture was always wrapped in expectation and convenience.With Mary, it was easy.I was so incredibly lost without you.I had no reason to go on.You’d saved me from a dreary meaningless existence.I was the happiest I’d ever been in my life.Everything was set in brilliant hues and you, you were the sun and moon to me.My whole world.I did Locum work to pay the bills, but I lived, every day to just be near you.Your friends became my friends, your work became my work, and your view of the world was slowly replacing how I’d seen it.Everything we touched was a delightful mess and I loved you for it.I felt more connected to the world through you than I’d achieved in all my life, including the army.

“I could have gone back, you know? Once the leg was fixed, I could have made up some self resolving nerve damage, and had the PTSD expunged from my record.The human body is still a mystery in the long run, and the army is so desperate for physicians, like me, they’d have let it all slideand welcomed me back with open arms.But, I didn’t want to, because living with you was a thousand times better. 

“When you died, and I failed to talk you out of it, I crashed and burned completely, utterly without meaning and hopeless.People were terribly cruel on top of all I was feeling inside.It was my fault.My last words to you face to face had been in anger and then, there you were, up on that roof, telling me you were a fake.In my mind, I may as well have shot you, because I felt like I’d murdered you.Not just suicide, I’d have bet money that if I’d stopped and listened, that you’d have reconsidered.I mean, I see now, but at that time, it was real to me, and I didn’t want to live with it.

“Everyone was giving me sympathy and I couldn’t even tell them that I was your murderer.So, I ran.Cut them all off.Mrs. Hudson with her constant kindness made me want to tell her the truth, and it would have hurt her, and I just couldn’t break her heart.You were my burden to carry.” John paused and nuzzled his face into Sherlock’s neck, breathing him in as if he were a drug. 

“I’d let you down.”

“You didn’t let me down,” Sherlock whispered into John’s hair. 

“From my perspective, I did.Mary didn’t seem to know about all of us.I question that now, of course, but at the time, I had no reason to even imagine she was not what she seemed.I liked how no nonsense and tough she was, sure.She made me laugh.That’s all it took.I loved her for it.Nobody else could.Greg tried, so hard and so many times.There was no light in my world without you.Everything and everyone were just flat caricatures of humans I’d once felt something for.I felt nothing for a year and a half.Nothing but hate and regret and loneliness for you.Then Mary made me laugh?She saved me. What else was there in the world for me?I’d marry her and make do.That’s where I was when you appeared.Marriage or a bullet, and you laughed at me.

“I’m sorry now, that I didn’t fall to my knees and thank god that you came back to me, but I couldn’t see it then, only in hindsight.I’ve done everything wrong, but I came through this when I could have left.I could have.But, I didn’t give up out there.I am Rosie’s dad and yet, I knew, she’d be fine with you.You’d both have each other. So, what I’m trying to tell you is that I came back for a chance.Just a chance that you would give me one more shot to... get this.. . Us... right.Because, I have never loved like this, and I want you to understand I will do anything in my power to make up for all the times I’ve let you down.I’ve been thinking about this, because I want to be honest.I don’t want to win you over with charm and then go back to failing.I want to get this right, Sherlock, because it matters more than anything I’ve ever done, to me.You matter to me.I should never have let you doubt that. You don’t need to say anything, I’m not asking for an answer, I just wanted to paint a little texture into the picture before you look away. So at least you’d understand why I am... this way.Sleep well.”

For the first time in weeks, Sherlock did. 


	23. Verbal

Chapter 23

Verbal

They stayed at the Grand Continental and their room was all dark ornate wood and creams.It made walking tours of the city within easy reach.They spent a chilly afternoon at the National Village Museum fascinated by its watermills.They ate Covrigi, (Romanian pretzels filled with walnuts or cheeses)and amazing cabbage rolls, but passed on the traditional tripe soup.

They returned to the enormous bed and when the lights went out, John rolled toward Sherlock and began to speak. 

“Do you remember when Irene came to the flat?Was asleep in your bed?I hated her, because I had finally got the gumption up to try to talk to you about how I felt.I’ve never been jealous.I know it’s an ugly side to me, but you are the only one who manifested it. All I wanted that night was a quiet evening and a conversation.I wanted to loosen your tongue a bit and see if there was any hope we could be more.But she was there and you seemed keen. I walked away rather than take a chance of losing you entirely.Sometimes I wish we could go back.I’d do so many things differently.I’d have at least opened the door and let you take it from there.When you got on that plane after Magnussen, I was clueless, what it really meant.I thought you meant you’d be back in six months.If I had really understood, I would have kissed you.I should have had the bollocks to do it anyway, because I wanted to.But, then Jim popped up and I was frantically trying to keep you from gorking yourself.You can usually tell when I’m completely terrified, because that’s when I’m most angry with you.When you go on a bender, with your bloody lists, I’m so afraid. I know what the world feels like without you in it and I hope to never know it again. 

“I’ll never have enough of you.I’ve pretended. But it wasn’t true.I’ve even convinced myself that I could walk away from you, but I never will again.You are free to go, anytime you want, but never again... will I, try to push you away. Because for one thing, it never works.So long as you will have me, in any capacity, I will follow you through hell, high water and the bloody rooftops of London.Good night, my love.Sleep well.

Sherlock remained awake for hours, trying to figure out what was going on.John was improving every day, yet he’d not made a single move to turn the journey into a sex holiday, but it was something of a holiday.Maybe John was waiting for him to give him a sign that he wanted him, or maybe John was in more pain than he was letting on and it had simply killed his libido.Perhaps the pain killers were giving him difficulties in that area.Sherlock would wait and see. 

The next leg of their journey, took them from Bucharest to Budapest, a fifteen hour ride by train.The scenery was washed with winter yet lively and postcard perfect.John had a terrible headache by the time they arrived.They checked in, spent an hour at a thermal bath andthen John went to bed immediately.Sherlock made sure John had his medication and two bottles of water at his bedside before he gave in to his wish to walkthe Danube and have a fag or two.He rang up Mycroft and his mother.All was well, according to them.He rang off and called Molly to give her an update as well. 

He returned to find John had ordered them dinner and Sherlock was glad to see John seemed to feel more spunky after his rest.He teased Sherlock and the meal was congenital and savoury.

John spoke to Rosie after dinner and he was quiet for a long time after.It was a contemplative quiet and Sherlock didn’t interrupt his musings. He eventually stood and stared out at the city before he took to the loo to clean his teeth and change into his sleepwear. 

That night, Sherlock waited for John to begin his nightly confession.John used most of the pillows, practically sitting up in bed.Sherlock snuggled his head next to John’s lap on the one pillow left.John’s hand carded through Sherlock’s hair, making him drowsy and content.

Sherlock woke to John’s voice low and cautious.“... to your grave, begging you to come back. Slept there some nights, passed out there others.I don’t know why, but pretty often when I drank to blackout stage, I ended up there or in your bed at 221b.Had to sneak past Mrs. Hudson.She never caught me.I was drawn to you, I suppose, well your memory.What I couldn’t face sober, called me when my defences were down.You always bleed through.And I have no ability to and no wish to stop it.You make me a better man, sometimes a terrible friend, but in general, a better man.I can’t lose you to some MI6 incompetence with nobody having your back.Like it or not, if you go, you are going to have a little shadow.Because you are better with me too. 

“Stupid, isn’t it? We can’t talk about us in the light but when it comes to solving crime and getting into danger, we don’t have to talk.We can say everything with a gesture, a look, because in those moments, we see each other and our instincts are pure, together.It’s like music, well your music, not the modern stuff.We are music together and a sad creepy banjo when apart.So, I don’t want to let you go alone.Not sure what I can arrange for Rosie, but I will work it out. 

“I wonder now, how often you play your violin for me.When I’m away from you, I hear it, you know?Plays in my head.I use it to calm myself sometimes.When it all becomes too much, I visualise the best of times.That’s one of them, for me.You standing in the window, posture so erect and precise, but there you are, swaying in the light falling from the window.At night it’s reds and orange, from the neon from Speedy’s.In the morning rain it’s all violets and blues and your skin is alabaster in that light.Summer afternoons the light is full of greens and ochre and it makes your hair seem like silken chocolate, warmer.How many hours I’ve studied you.You are like art.Beautiful and ever changing. I longed to touch your hair.Bury my fingers in it and bring them to my nose, later, infused with your scent.

“You don’t always smell good, love, you wallow in sewers and rubbish and crime scenes and morgues and chemicals and sometimes you don’t even bother to bathe properly.Too distracted with puzzles to notice or be arsed to care, but other times, you are intoxicating.Drive me mad.You breeze by, and I am like a barmy bloodhound, on the scent.It isn’t that poncy cologne you wear either.It’s just my body’s reaction to your personal pheromones.You’ve no idea how often I had a wank over a bit of your laundry.Embarrassing. 

“I’ll let you see me now.As best I can.Warts and all.If you’ll have me.”

John settled back, and his fingers strummed Sherlock’s hair until they slowed and his breathing grew steady and deep. 

They spent three days enjoying various thermal baths.They not only helped John’s pain level, they gave him the ability to breath better. He was much more chipper and moving more easily. His appetite increased and they strolled the city, with no goals in mind and explored the the sights they happened upon. 

Each night, John rambled his most secret thoughts to Sherlock, some times as they went to bed, and sometimes in the deep night.But the conversations were never brought up the next day. 

They boarded the Railjet train for a seven hour leg to Munich.They took a walking tour, seeing palaces and Museums with a beer tasting ending. The night brought tales of John’s childhood and why he wanted to be both a doctor and a soldier.

They moved on to Paris, and John removed his surgical stitches with Sherlock’s help.Paris was boring to Sherlock who knew the city almost as well as London.But John made them go about as tourists, and as if running through the cliché gauntlet, kissed Sherlock on top of the Eiffel Tower. It was cold and there were few others around. 

John was driving Sherlock mad.He’d waited and been patient but he took the kiss as a signal that things were ready to commence to the physical.But upon returning to their room, John sat down and opened a book he’d picked up in a Paris shop. 

“So, you plan to wile away the afternoon reading?I thought you were feeling better?Do you need your meds?”

John raised his eyes and twinkled in mirth.“Did you have something else in mind?Hungry or was there something you wanted to go do?”

Sherlock was frustration personified. “You kissed me.I thought perhaps it would lead to... it’s obvious conclusion.I have been mindful of your injuries, but you still have not... touched me?”

“I pet you like a cat for hours each night.” John replied wryly.

“Let me be specific.Why is there an absolute absence of sex on our sex holiday.You have ruined me and if you are physically capable, I assure you I can be most creative in accommodation of any physical limitations.I want you to make love to me in Paris, before we go home, and you are reading a book!”

John smiled and his eyes went misty.“I’ve made love to you every night since we left hospital.Every night.” 

“I think I would remember.”

“You do.You just did not observe.Sherlock, you told me you didn’t want to dip your toe back into the chemistry of love.I have made love to the most important part of you.That massively elegant brain.I didn’t want to shag you into just forgiving me again.I wanted you to know, me, why I am the person I am.I’ll never doubt that I have your heart. But, this time, I needed your mind, to convince that brilliant brain that I was worth entrusting your heart to.Do you understand?”

“Ohhh.John that’s the most brilliant thing I’ve ever heard!You are masterful!” Sherlock exclaimed on his exhale sounding like a murder had been solved. 

John smiled up at him, basking in the praise. “I’m delighted that you think so.”

“Yes.Now get your bloody kit off!I need a shag!” Sherlock demanded unbuttoning his own shirt frantically. 


	24. Forget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know I’m still running a bit behind, but have faith. We are getting there! Oh, look, a happy ending in the offing!

Chapter 24

Forget

John stood with a grin on his face and answered, “Oh, God. Yes.But?Slow down.Because this?It’s a marathon, not a sprint.Also, I’d like to know, that you are going to stay in London?”

Sherlock blinked and his eyes softened.“I believe I am.”

John swallowed and nodded, then his eyes full of hope, he asked, his voice mostly air, “With...me?”

Sherlock grinned. “Nobody else will have me.”

John took a deep breath and his tongue darted out as he looked appreciatively up and down Sherlock’s physique.“Yeah?Well my goal is going to be, to make sure that you forget that anyone else ever existed,” He purred with pure confidence and seduction.His bright blue eyes, were alight with charm and desire.He stepped forward and growled deep in his throat as he pulled Sherlock down for a proper snog.

Their clothing was discarded haphazardly and John, spent a great deal of time just slowly using his lips and hands in worship.They were not exactly in sync on the passion page.Sherlock was doing everything in his power to speed things along whilst John nibbled and tortured Sherlock with his long experience in being in control.He knew he was driving Sherlock mad and enjoying every second of it. 

John was enjoying himself and using every bit of his ability to praise Sherlock at every step. Sherlock had tumbled from his cool aloof pedestal and was a moaning beacon of focus on his doctor.He was no longer the verbose Detective, just a bundle of goosebumps and sighs.

John was nipping Sherlock’s nipples and finally his hand reached lower, just gently cupping Sherlock’s testicles as he punctuated each word with a nip or a suckle.He’d just moistened the nipple with his tongue and blew a cooling stream of breath as Sherlock stiffened and his breath grew shallow.

“You are the most brilliant... beautiful... sexy... clever... extraordinary...“

Sherlock’s head rocked back, his back arching off the bed and through clenched teeth he made a sound not unlike a person falling into a seizure and then stream after stream of semen danced across them both like a splash park.

John cuddled him and soothed him through the seismic orgasm.Sherlock was barely coherent and his eyes were glazed and half lidded.“Dear God.” He whispered. 

“How did that happen?Hmm?I barely touched you.Not even waiting for the good parts?” John was amused and honestly quite chuffed by this unexpected turn. 

“You called me extraordinary. The warmth of your hand and the cool of your breath, and you have not called me extraordinary since ages before I stepped off the roof?It was... I’m only human, John.” Sherlock panted. 

John giggled.“I’m going to say it at every crime scene.”

Sherlock gave a half-smile and opened one eye. “Not unless you want the whole of London to know we are shagging. I’ll have you in the SOCO tent before you can draw your gun!”

“You are a quick draw...” John snickered. 

Sherlock slapped at him playfully.“Shut up.It was quantum.For a moment I feared I was still on that cold rock, and this was just something my mind had created as I died. I was lost in quantum foam, seeing worlds of possibilities and you and I in a thousand stories in which we’d made a single different choice.One, you married me instead of Mary, another where you went with me to take down Moriarty’s web, another in which you died instead of Mary, in one Rosie was a twin, they were all there, every choice we ever made.Not all of them were good, but in most of them, the constant was that we were always, always... far more than just two friends.We were and will always be, extraordinary, John.”

Sherlock flipped John over gently and gave him a nearly psychotic, narrow-eyed grin.It was his most dangerous smile.John had seen it before, and his breath quickened at the way Sherlock’s face transformed into pure predator.“My turn!” He said low and wickedly menacing.

John nearly came on the spot. 

Sherlock had his fingers buried in John and his mouth was doing something to his cock that made John feel as if his guts were about to be strained through his penis when he forgot how to breathe and lost his mind to the pleasure. 

No matter the pain, and heartaches he’d survive, it was all worth it for this moment.He’d nearly not been here to experience this and nothing would have ever been worth giving it up.John Watson existed his entire life but this was more than existing.It was breathing in the grey bubbles and not drowning.It was a love that could not be named.If there was a God, John was sure he’d just defined the word for whatever that entity was about. He couldn’t speak or move for several seconds.

Sherlock slowly withdrew his hand and wiped it carefully on a flannel, glancing at John, pleased with himself and bemused by the boggled look on his mates face.“I am extraordinary, John. Don’t ever forget it again.”

“Oh fuck you. Who’s John?” John asked shamming amnesia, to make his brilliant Detective laugh.

They never saw much of Paris.They were far too busy forgetting their own names and that a world outside their hotel room carried on.


	25. Mystic

Chapter 25

Mystic

Adjective

Middle English mystyke "open to symbolic or spiritual interpretation,"

Life was a great mystery and it was Sherlock’s job to solve it, but there were things that were simply beyond ability of humanity to puzzle out.The universe was not lazy, but some things were so powerful he suspected there must be some form of divinity involved. Though the concept of a being called God, was most likely fantasy, meant to control the moral behaviour of society to keep the unwashed from running amok and providing him mass business, it no longer seemed impossible to him that there could be something, more... out there... somewhere.

He had antidotal data. One in every two-hundred-fifty pregnancies result in twins.Genetically they only run on the maternal side of a family, but Molly had no twins in her line. They’d specifically chosen to have a child, the old fashioned way to negate the chance of multiple births. 

The universe had either a sense of humour, or a temper.Sherlock would place his flutter on the latter. They had missed one at the initial exams.Only searching for a single heartbeat, they’d assumed.The first ultrasound scan at twenty weeks revealed that there was a second little Sherlock, hiding in plain sight. 

Molly was enormous with two Holmes boys obviously bickering within.

John had laughed for days.“But you always tell me it’s never twins! And it’s twins!”

Mycroft had stuck his long nose into the matter.His Earldom needed an heir and a spare and since the chance of him ever producing any progeny were about equal to winning the Euromillions lottery, or an immaculate conception, Sherlock was now the golden boy of Holmes family pride.There were titles and inheritances, he’d never known or cared one wit about, that all needed meetings and discussions and rituals.

The archaic need for formality would not be put aside and at everyone’s urging, including John’s when he saw the actual numbers, after calling him a posh dick, it was decided that the children would be brought into the world with all legal standing that could be afforded to them by the luck of their birth.

“Sherlock, the future Earl of Muskgrave, must be born in wedlock or the title will return to the crown.It’s just a formality and will save me untold hours of parliamentary debate.It is also cheaper to simply wed and divorce after the waiting period than it is for me to have to spend influence and years rerouteing an entire system for your convenience!”

John had finally won him over to the idea when he had mentioned that their hope of retirement to a little cottage by the sea was guaranteed if they simply accepted the arrangement, whereas they would be doddering about with Zimmerman frames trying to catch exceeding slow criminals before they were going to be able to afford a backwater bog, if Sherlock didn’t start caring just a bit about financial matters. 

Molly giggled and quite liked the idea of her boys being able to sit in the House of Lords someday.“You never know?They will be brilliant like you and your brother.Might suit them. It’s just a bit of paper after all. I wanted Holmes on the certificate anyway. I dealt with ‘Hooper the pooper’ in first form.If nothing else, save them from that?”

A tyrannical fury winked into a Sherlock at the thought of any human wishing to live, bullying someone he loved.He knew how to hide bodies and it would be a useful skill should anyone dare. But he kept that resolve to himself and suddenly it dawned on him why Mycroft was so frustratingly protective. Mycroft, bluster and tosh, big brother personified, loved him. Sherlock was really all Mycroft had. 

(Your loss would break my heart)

Ohhhhh.

Caring is not an advantage, and you know this because you actually do, brother dear.Check mate, Uncle Mycroft.

He bandied the term “Uncle Mycroft” until even the drivers and Anthea were cheekily calling him that.Mummy, her once spot on deductions having gone off with the fairies, took it as a sign that her boys had finally started to get along and she was so delighted they couldn’t stand the thought of upsetting her with the facts.

Sherlock was still sneaking the odd fag now and again, and of course, who would appear at his shoulder in the park one Sunday afternoon but his brother with a box of Treasure Luxury Blacks.“If you are going to destroy your lungs, at least have a bit of class about it, brother mine.”

“Don’t mind if I do!” Sherlock took three, tucking two away for later. 

“By all means, help yourself.” Mycroft said snapping the lid shut and producing a match.

“The wood adds to the enjoyment.” Mycroft stated as if it were one of his droll lectures on fine wine. 

Sherlock inhaled deeply and appreciated the treat by insulting it, “Exhales just like a Lambert and Butler.”

“Fine, give them back then.”

“Nope.” Sherlock snorted a laugh. 

Mycroft rolled his eyes. 

“You have made Mummy very happy,” Mycroft commented. 

“You came a long way out of your way to state the obvious.”

“I must admit a certain pride in the way you have stepped up to the plate and taken on... responsibilities.”

Sherlock puffed his cigarette twice before replying.“I had a rather determined and infinitely patient teacher, you know?”

“Did you?”

“I think so.Hopefully my boys won’t be as much trouble to you as I was.I do hope you realise, I will expect you to actually participate and interact with them?”

Mycroft’s brows arched, “Indeed.What’s the catch?”

“Your heart.You’ll have to crack it open a bit.Disadvantageous as you find caring to be, I know you are capable.”

Mycroft bowed slightly, “Most Honoured.”

Sherlock sighed.“What did you actually want? You trekked all the way here.”

“I came to inform you that I am seeing someone.It’s serious and I wished to be the one to tell you.I would appreciate it, if you could perhaps not undermine it, or unleash a firestorm because of it?”

“Why would I care?Ohhh, it’s someone I know.Did you finally notice him?Took you long enough.Lestrade is out of your league, so, you’d better treat him impeccably.”

“You’re not surprised, or angry?”

“I’ve known for ages.Do be careful with him.He’s dreary when he’s been rejected.”

“He is kind, to me, Sherlock.” Mycroft sounded miffed by the revelation.

“Well then, Uncles. A year ago we were the end of the line.Look at us, domesticated by commoners and sickeningly content as our family expands?”

“Sometimes the universe speaks quietly and far beyond the reaches of probability.” Mycroft dropped his cigarette and stepped on it before picking it up and tucking the remains in a pocket.

“Would you and John, perhaps consider having dinner with us, sometime?”

“Do I get to pick the wine?” Sherlock asked.

“I suppose I could suffer your palate for one night.”

“Friday then.”

Mycroft pulled his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through his schedule.“Done.”

Sherlock took a last puff on his expensive nicotine fix and crumbled the cherry between his fingers.“Who won the bet,

then?”

Mycroft smiled.“I did.Gregory predicted a massive wobbly.”

“You always bet on me, didn’t you.”

Mycroft looked at the handle of his umbrella as if he’d never seen it before.“Not always, brother mine.”He met his brother’s eyes.“But, I was wrong, because I should have.”

Friday night became a tradition very quickly.Sometimes Molly joined them, or Mrs Hudson,but it was something they actually looked forward to, unless they were off on a case or Mycroft was away playing in his international intrigues. 

Margret Elizabeth Holmes was induced at thirty-five weeks. The twins spent a few days in the SBCU, treated for jaundice, and monitored, but they were fighters. They were tiny mirrors of Sherlock and yet, within days had very separate personalities.

Alexandro Mycroft Nathanial, the future Earl Of Muskgrave, was more quiet, the observer.

Arthur Hamish Sherlock, the second born, and the elusive one, was much louder and certainly more active once his presence was known, the doer. He was going to be trouble, his father predicted. 

John couldn’t tell them apart but Sherlock could almost at once.Alex and Arty were so much work in the first few weeks that it took the whole family coordinating just to let Molly have a bit of rest.Mycroft even changed a nappy, well, once.His namesake was more retentive than the younger one. 

Bee proved to be her father’s daughter at once,toddling to the nappy bag and handing one to an adult before pointing out the offending party.She brought toys and sang nonsense to entertain the little ones. 

She was a caring big sister and thanks to her time with Sherlock’s Mum, exquisitely potty trained and capable of improvising contraptions that allowed her to reach nearly anything in the flat. This was a worrying habit as her constructions became more elaborate and she was upwardly mobile to the height of the fridge top if left alone for more than three minutes. 

“It’s simple Geometry, Sherlock,” Mrs. Holmes had stated both bashful and filled with pride. “She is quite talented at the physical maths.Conceptual maths will come later.She is quite the little builder, isn’t she?” They pretended not to notice as Bee selected blocks to stack upon a kitchen chair, she’d already moved a footstool in place to more easily reach the required lift for her stubby legs, creating effectively, steps to scramble up to the cupboard top. 

“Oh, it’s going to be delightful until the moment her coordination is less agile than her mind and she has a neck breaking tumble and her building project collapses on top of her,” Sherlock hissed in frustration.

Bee finally noticed them watching her and gleefully began scaling her project to get to the sink and stick her toes under the cold tap before an adult intervened and put a stop to her fun. 

She was obsessed with washing her feet.She would rather be flayed alive than allow a flannel near her face after dinner, but she’d sit and wash her feet(and a good portion of the surrounding kitchen) for an hour if allowed.Nobody had any clue where this odd preference had come from and Mary’s side was blamed by default.

Sherlock spent two nights a week at Molly’s and a very good deal of the time was spent just rocking them and observing.They were the most fascinating things he’d ever seen, and after being banished from Bees earlier days, he was determined not to allow any gaps in his observation of the boys.They were changing every day and he found it beyond his ability to be parted from them for long. 

There was a mystical connection to the world that Sherlock felt when observing the miniature faces that shadowed himself.When John held one, sometimes his face was so openly enamoured and filled with love that Sherlock could physically feel its reflection.


	26. Ears

Chapter 26

Ears

Ears were like fingerprints, unique and a step towards solving crimes.He’d identified that despite the facial recognition software pinging Derringer Stanley as the Suspect, That it was actually Vance Smithfield caught on the security video .Their faces were uncannily similar down to eyes and bone structure, but, the ears gave it away.It wasn’t his first case involving ears.The salted ones were quite disgusting when they’d been posted to a client with a terribly convoluted love life. 

Sherlock was enamoured with the children’s ears. Bee’s ears stuck out slightly, like her father’s and the boys had attached lobes with a twenty degree tilt, much like his own.Yet the structure of the Antitragus curved upwards into the Anthelix in a pure copy of Molly’s.Her ears were slightly offset, as were most people’s and the boys ears were reflective rather than identical in this feature.Alex was higher on the right but Arty’s left ear was the one set slightly above the other. 

These tiny shells of flesh were pink like sunsets in the sun but a softer blush beige under fluorescent light.They were also soft against his lips as he nuzzled them and gave off a sweet aroma that Sherlock found most addictive.He whispered in the tiny ears all the secrets he knew of the world, describing all he saw in a calming monotone that often put them right off to sleep. Clean baby smell should be bottled.Of course loaded nappy smell should be banned entirely.

Sherlock nuzzled a soundly sleeping Alex, when John came down from putting Rosie to bed.

“You are going to sniff his ears off if you don’t stop,” John teased.

“Your medical opinion is suspect, at best.” Sherlock inhaled his eldest son appreciatively. 

“Put that poor child down. Leave him some ear smelling for tomorrow?” John asked, head tilted and a wry smile on his face.“All three are asleep. At the same time.I know their ears are adorable, but I too have fetching ears.You can sniff them if you’re so inclined?”

“Your ears are a half hair away from otapostasis, and speaking of hair, have you noticed they are sprouting hair?Strutting around the flat with your old man bearded ears, trying to tempt me away from these perfect little samples?”

“Well, now that you’ve pointed out my traumatic disfiguring Auricular hypertrichosis, I’m not going to seduce you, but put the baby down and come to bed anyway.” 

Sherlock acted put upon, but carefully rose to put the boy on his cot, next to his brother.He followed John to the bedroom and found him feigning sleep, back turned from Sherlock’s side of the bed.

“You’re wearing pants?” Sherlock accused as he climbed into the bed and nudged John to move to a more snuggly position.

John adjusted his head on the pillow but remained unreceptive.“My ears are too hairy and they stick out.Better have Mycroft check the invalided rolls at the base to see if you can scare up a younger version, with prettier ears! May have to look at Queen Alexandra's Royal Army Nursing Corps if you want to stay in the medical field, because they hardly ever release doctors before senility sets in.Combat med techs are a decent option and you can train the puppy, since youthful flat ears are going to be more plentiful.”

“Hey?What’s all this about? “

John sighed. “Just a bit of a sore subject.Mary even told me she hoped the baby didn’t have my ears.”

“There’s nothing wrong with Bee’s ears, John.And she definitely got them from her father.”

“Yeah?There was nothing wrong with mine genetically.But, I had to have otoplasty surgery when I was ten.Guess the only one who’d know that now would be Harry.Repeated trauma.My father, thought boxing a kids ears was good parenting.I mean I’ve seen far worse.Mine didn’t develop the cauliflower appearance of boxers or anything but at some point there was enough damage that the helical rim tightened and I ended up with really ugly ears that were ... he knew he did it, but not a word... never apologised, never acknowledged.He kept doing it after.When I was twelve, I picked up a frying pan and nearly beat him to death.”

“Ohh... that’s..and you were twelve?” Sherlock leaned up on his elbow and looked at John’s ear with new eyes. “They did a fantastic job.I can’t even tell.”

“I got a short stay at a youth detention centre.” John said with a shake of his head.

“You were a Borstal Boy?”

“I’m not that old you berk.They’d renamed them by my time there.Late eighties.I got out of there as fast as I could.He never touched me or Harry again, but he never spoke to me again either.I mean, he’d literally tell Mum to tell me things when I was right there in the room.Tell Johnny the bins need wheeling in... stuff like that.It was better than before, but it was like I didn’t really exist.”

“I knew there was something not right.You told me about growing up, but never mentioned him.” Sherlock admitted. 

John nodded.“He used to brag about me. To other people.Neighbours, people he worked with, his friends at the pub. Everyone thought he adored me... his son, the doctor.The big war hero.But I was in Helmand when he died.He’d never written a word to me.I hear it was a big turn out, his funeral.I didn’t bother to go.No point.Funny how all the relatives judged me for not flying home to pretend grief, but none of them judged him for who he really was, when I wore the proof right on the side of my head.I hate my ears.I always will.”

“Your ears are fine.I was just being cheeky with you.Though I do have an incredible urge to pluck the hair out of them.Doesn’t it tickle?It would drive me mad.”

“I can’t actually see in my ears, Sherlock.I hadn’t even noticed.”

Sherlock nuzzled John’s ears and inhaled noisily.

John laughed. “What Are you doing? Stop that!”

“They turn bright red when you are embarrassed.They move upward three or four centimetres when you smile... your natural unguarded smile, when you show your teeth, and are actually amused and not just being polite.If I take the lobe between my teeth it gives you goosebumps and my breath makes you shiver. 

“You hear better out of your right ear, and cock it toward sounds you mean to identify.You shoot most often with your left hand, and sometimes you neglected your hearing protection, resulting in mild hearing loss predominantly on the side you fire your weapon.Medical personnel are protected by the Geneva convention.You can carry a weapon to protect yourself and your patients.Combat medics are not doctors and even those on the front lines rarely see need to draw, much less fire a weapon.A doctor would be with a mobile hospital.They see even less action.You are an army surgeon with hearing loss from repeatedly engaging in combat.And, you were invalided home when there was still breath in your body. You were not a little army doctor, you were special operations.The elite of the elite and as their surgical expert, you were even more elevated.”

“Finally caught on to that, did you?” John grinned and rolled onto his back. 

“Your delightful and perfectly aesthetically pleasing ears,gave you away.”

John grinned and teased with a gentle pat of frustration, “And you left me behind to go play dead super spy.Idiot!”

“Oh.Yes, stupid of me... well, if you don’t factor in your nose.”

“My nose?What’s wrong with my nose”

“Are you going to be cross again?Never mind there is nothing at all wrong with your nose.It’s rarely in the way when you kiss me, so just forget I said anything ...”


End file.
